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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862119">Weight of Words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding'>KJGooding</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Post-Canon Trill Revival [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Planet, Autistic Julian Bashir, Claustrophobia, Comfort, Established Relationship, First Contact, Holidays, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Sensory Overload, Spiritual, Trans Julian Bashir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:21:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian and Elim are called away from their budding service to the Bajoran-Cardassian Union to conduct a wellness check for an unexplored planet in the Gamma Quadrant - Zcura - where aural sensations manifest themselves differently.  The atmosphere is not overly pleasant for Elim, and he is grateful he can rely on his husband in new, deeper ways as their mission progresses. </p><p>Meanwhile, on Trill, Rali, Kira, and Jadzia Dax hold a celebration for the newly-Joined, integrating customs from several planetary histories, showing how rich and interwoven they have become outside of Federation sterility.  </p><p>(This can be read as a standalone, or as a companion to The Orb of Linear Time and its preceding series :) )</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Post-Canon Trill Revival [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1251704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22897321">The Orb of Linear Time</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding">KJGooding</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2405</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it happened, they were on the station, of all places. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian had not set foot there in years, but with his advancing age came more and more diplomatic missions in place of high-risk medical practice.  His formal Colonel’s uniform was a rich, dark purple suit, with a long tunic and loose, comfortable trousers.  He wore a belt of woven rust-colored corduroy, denoting his place in the medical division of the Bajoran militia.  Beside him walked a </span>
  <em>
    <span>vision</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim wore white.  He had allowed his hair to gray and, after giving it a few years to soften from the relentless starching and gelling, he found it beginning to twist itself into wayward curls at the bottom.  His suit was a clear enough departure from earlier Cardassian military uniforms, but it was far from </span>
  <em>
    <span>plain</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Subtle geometric patterns mirrored one another on either side of the tunic, separated by a strip of pale pink fabric, glimmering like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nacre </span>
  </em>
  <span>shell, inviting Julian’s eyes to follow it.  Indeed, he spent most of the short walk staring, then earning playful remarks from Kelas, who walked on his other side and several paces behind, reaching to pat Julian’s shoulder while pausing to lean on their cane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is something, isn’t he?” Kelas said, vague and yet perfectly insinuating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is that,” Julian agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing full well what they were up to, Elim turned and pretended not to hear; he asked for clarification and hoped this </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude disruption </span>
  </em>
  <span>was worthwhile--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he began, in an inflated voice, “the Medium of the Emissary did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>invite any of us here to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignore her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  After all, we’ve only--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or to interrupt her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kira, who had been leading the little procession - with Ro at her side - turned her head to tease him.  Julian and Kelas paused their appraisal, only to apologize. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said, and she promptly turned again, swiveling the great three-tiered habit on her head to guide them toward their destination, like the arrow on a compass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t every day I have the chance to tour this station,” Elim went on, making amends in his own invented way.  “I think we should eat at the little Teplan place where my shop used to be.  What do you say, Julian?  And Kelas hasn’t seen the place since it polished ore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Kelas agreed, holding up one finger in timid commitment.  “But only after the Dedication.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Doctor,” Elim agreed, slowing down only to embrace Kelas’s shoulder.  “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting the diplomatic highlight of your career.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kira continued leading them from the port where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana </span>
  </em>
  <span>had docked all the way down to the Infirmary.  Kelas was due to dedicate the facility in their name, after Kira gave a blessing to an audience composed specifically of Bajoran-Cardassian individuals who were born throughout the Occupation.  Some came from shocking circumstances - considering their own existence criminal for many years - while others came from loving families who had to lead secret, second lives together.  Regardless of their pasts, Kelas had come to influence many of them, whether by providing their delivery and care in the first place, or crossing paths with them much later and giving aid to the particular ailments the hybrids were struck by.  It had become Kelas’s field of expertise, and while it began by accident, they considered it the best use of their insistent, compassionate nature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Infirmary had continued providing medical services even after the Federation withdrew from the station and left it, at last, to the Bajorans to christen.  Kira tried to save this honor for a time when it felt most appropriate, and she could not think of a better occasion than the first diplomatic mission of the Bajoran-Cardassian Union, as they finally reached out to the population both planets had scorned for many years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelas wore one of their medical uniforms, too, in the same shade as Julian’s, but since they preferred wearing pockets to keep all manner of things in, they opted for the rust-colored lab coat instead of the utility belt.  Julian watched one of their hands dive into the deepest side-pocket only to return with a little sachet of tea.  They rarely went anywhere without tea, for one reason or another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your lamps still burn there, don’t they?” Kelas addressed Kira, and the memorial lamps lit for those lost in the Occupation, in the hallowed processing wings which flanked the Infirmary itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do, every hour of the day,” Kira assured.  “You have your herbs with you… yes, I had Ro arrange the eight glasses you asked for, Doctor.  It should be a beautiful ceremony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelas bobbed their head, borrowing from human custom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so, Vedek,” they said kindly.  “Though my readings of the scripture are quite bland, in contrast to yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’ll split the chapter in half,” Kira offered, grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>too long,” Ro added, through her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim leaned in to nudge Julian, to ask him something trivial and meaningless but still greatly entertaining, but his attention was drawn to the wormhole.  Along with everyone else’s, as they turned to watch through the nearest viewport, crowding around it and fogging it with their breath.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wormhole had remained open and transitory since Sisko returned to Earth several years earlier.  The Bajorans and Cardassians, by choice, did not pass through it, to pay respect to the site and preserve its stability in the face of many unknowns.  Regardless, it seized and changed its color, then flung out a small satellite and promptly shut again. Whatever it was, it had come from the Gamma quadrant, and it had come with Sisko’s blessing - Kira was certain.  The wormhole would not open without cause, nor would it give a gift like this one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian felt like a much younger man again - perhaps a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brash </span>
  </em>
  <span>lieutenant in a Starfleet uniform, unburdened by war and casualty - as he broke off from the procession and sprinted to the former Operations office, to study the satellite more closely.  This was much more exciting than any naming ceremony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The satellite was, of course, of unknown origin, but he could chart its trajectory through the wormhole and work his way backward.  Its design was nimble - thin and bronze and flagged with articulated fins for maneuverability, not unlike a Bajoran solar ship.  As he took control of a transporter beam and brought it within proximity of the station, so he could beam it directly aboard, he caught sight of Kira, Kelas, and Elim huddled together in the old turbolift, stepping out to greet him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We never change, do we?” he mused, sliding a bar on the control panel, causing the satellite to materialize right there in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in the ways that matter most,” Kira conceded, staring up at the satellite with fascination and respect, not fear or distrust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you make of it, Vedek?” Elim asked, studying it from several steps behind her, glancing to Julian to gauge the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” Kelas said, around the same time.  “Is it Bajoran, do you think?  Something ancient?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure, Doctor,” she said.  “It’s possible Sisko sent it, but he’s not in that realm, right now… maybe if I… just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kira offered one hand forward in a gesture of peace - slowly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>slowly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, until she touched one of the satellite’s fins.  It was definitely some kind of metal - it withstood deep-space travel without collapsing - but it was shockingly cold to the touch.  Kira winced and withdrew, which Kelas inherently understood.  They reached out for her hand and took it in their own, turning it over gently and patting it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Julian, a medkit?” they asked, watching carefully for any sign of Kira’s discomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I hardly feel anything,” she insisted, as Julian made himself useful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, he had leapt down from the observation desk - the Science Officer’s station, in fact - and tore off one of the console covers to reveal an emergency medical kit, precisely where he had stashed it decades earlier.  Aside from some dust on the cover, everything inside seemed to be intact and functional, and he found a warming salve before Kira could protest further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Numbness isn’t exactly a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>sign,” he explained, smoothing over her palm. “It’s spent an unknown amount of time in deep space… clearly it doesn’t conduct heat or have a mechanical climate control system, so we’ve got to be careful t--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it was coated in a harmful agent intentionally,” Elim suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it wouldn’t have come through the transporter.  We would’ve gotten an alarm to scrub it, first,” Kira said, falling back into the commanding tone she had not used since joining the Assembly.  It felt good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a basic decon subroutine, in any case,” Julian said, ensnaring himself in a similar trap - voicing his former enthusiasm as a Starfleet Lieutenant, just slightly too bold for his superior officers’ tastes.  It felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>exciting</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” said Elim, always the careful observer, “then there must be another means of opening it, without touch.  Unless its designers are impervious to cold; </span>
  <em>
    <span>mercies</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I can feel myself shivering a meter away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian continued inspecting it, now with the aid of his medical scanner.  Its basic functionality could be switched to scanning for any organic material whatsoever - such as the faintest imprints left by the fingerprints of the satellite’s creators.  He could also take its temperature, and continue guessing at the exact path it had taken to reach them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he was making his third stroll around it, it spontaneously cracked open.  The sound from inside was pure, deafening chaos.  Even with his translator, he could not make sense of any individual word.  They were loud and detached from one another, as if spoken under great pressure or pain.  This must have been a cry for help, he thought.  He could understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>through any language barrier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So could Kelas; their eyes were somber through their spectacles, and Julian watched them cast their gaze to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The message repeated, rather than terminate, and Julian had to cover his ears as he stepped toward the satellite, searching urgently for a way to stop the sound.  It must have had a speaker system somewhere - a complex collection of wires - </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could disable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Ro who came to their rescue, only moments later, although the painful screeching noises made it feel like centuries.  She drew her phaser and aimed a beam at the middle of the satellite, sending it into silence, sparking and fizzling as fragments of the copper fins cracked and clattered to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Vedek</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” she called out; it meant everything at once.  Concern, admonition, shock, love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Kira’s voice was soft, as she watched Ro rush down the steps from the turbolift. “Julian… can we still trace its point of origin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he said, pulling his hands away from his face, finding them curiously speckled.  It seemed to be sweat, but each bead was a slightly different color, and they splintered into little lines when he tried to wipe them away, evading his touch. “Vedek…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ro had already taken Kira’s hand in her own, but was struck with a similar realization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it hurt you?” she asked, showing Kira’s palm to Julian on her behalf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was cold,” Kira replied.  “Julian didn’t touch it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> peculiar,” Kelas said, looking at their two newest patients.  “Come here, let me have a look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite phrasing this as an invitation, Kelas was never one to waste time when people were in need.  They took each patient’s afflicted hand and set them down on the Ops station, lending some stability so they could scrape at the sedimentary deposits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must be a result of the sound,” they decided.  “Elim and I were not as near to the satellite when it opened, and our hearing is not as acute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t hear with our hands,” Kira shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not, but you were already compromised, there.  Perhaps this fluid conducts sound, on its homeworld.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” said Elim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I follow,” Julian admitted.  “It couldn’t have come from </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>ears.  I don’t even recognize the base elements.  I’d have to get a more sophisticated scanner from the Infirmary, and even then…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fortunate,” said Kelas, “that we are due there this evening, anyway.  Isn’t that a lovely - hmm - maneuver of the Fates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Fates need to find other ways to get my attention,” Kira remarked, turning her hand over and then removing it from the cold tabletop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, the Fates sent Kira back to Trill for her recovery.  As it often was, Kira’s recovery process was more spiritual than strictly physical.  The gash in her hand healed quickly with Julian’s supervision, but the questions the satellite posed were left open, gaping.  Rather than travel to Earth and separate Sisko from his family, she made a stop on Trill to seek clarification from Jadzia, first.  While Kira was widely regarded as the Emissary’s Medium, he often remained a mystery to her.  If she could admit this secret to anyone, it would be Jadzia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now you can’t go anywhere and </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell everyone else</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kira teased.  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was leaning over the edge of the pool where Jadzia and Dax resided, together and apart.  Rali was busy tending to a pool of symbionts across the rocky path from them, but she was always listening.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>mysterious,” Jadzia’s voice was encouraging.  “Maybe this didn’t come from him, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Julian’s still working on that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.  He’ll figure it out in a few days.  Then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We think it was a cry for help,” Kira reiterated.  “So… we respond.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Jadzia sighed fondly, tipping her head and giving Kira a smile.  “The first joint mission of the Bajoran-Cardassian Union.  A rescue mission.  I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are lost souls everywhere,” Kira replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping you’d say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  Oh, come on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you already know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I want to hear, and you’re--?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant to ask you about lost souls last time you visited.  Didn’t I, Rali?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali was still staring down at the rippling water, but she nodded.  Jadzia and Kira could catch the slightest bob of her shoulders, and that was enough to determine her agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, a few years ago?  I think the last time I was here was over Rali’s Joining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apologies, Vedek,” Jadzia teased, holding her arms up in mock humility.  “I get my sense of time from the Emissary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom says a lot about people losing themselves when they’re Joining,” Rali explained, in her own peculiar way.  “Dad said something about a holiday on Earth… a couple holidays on Earth… and I thought it could work nicely for them to do that with a zhian’tara.  To find themselves again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you’re here anyway,” Jadzia grinned, “what do you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have the first </span>
  <em>
    <span>clue </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I’m agreeing to,” Kira said, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how you felt when you rescued me,” Jadzia said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how I feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a Vedek.  Sure, what do you need me to do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian decided to bring the remnants of the satellite back to Cardassia to complete his studies.  Charting its stellar trajectory was relatively simple; Cardassian cartography was quite advanced.  So, he found his work slotting comfortably into place alongside Vedek Kira’s, as she helped arrange a communal </span>
  <em>
    <span>zhian’tara </span>
  </em>
  <span>ceremony with Rali and Jadzia’s input and guidance.  Meanwhile, Kelas remained on the station, hard at work modernizing the Infirmary, reading passages of the scripture themself, muddling through the unfamiliar words Kira had not had time to teach them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the satellite’s origin was worked out, the first true joint mission of the new Union began, with Julian placing a call from a quiet alcove in the marble chambers of the ancestral home he shared with Kelas and Elim on Cardassia.  Only Elim was there with him at the time, hovering over his shoulder as he waited nervously for an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First Contact was conducted digitally, with Kira’s blessings sent over a communique.  The message from the planet </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcura </span>
  </em>
  <span>came hours later, full of the same incessant shrieking and static they had heard from the satellite.  Curiously, the use of their own Cardassian monitors did not end in any sedimentary deposits like those from the satellite, but the noise was just as awful.  Constant, heavy sound seemed to be the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>norm, and after Julian and Elim exchanged all of the necessary greetings and diplomatic arrangements, they set up a time to meet and inspect the planet for themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two Standard weeks later, they stepped from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana </span>
  </em>
  <span>onto </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>soil, blue and bubbling, to greet their host, an Ambassador by the name of Trale.  Their original video exchange had been brief - due to the discomfort brought on by the noise - and had hardly given them sufficient time to look at one another.  Trale was nearly half a meter taller than Julian, and their body was segmented into thirds, coated in exoskeletal tissue, glistening wet with the sedimentary beads they saw emanate from the satellite.  The little droplets painted them in all different colors, giving the effect of iridescence as they moved to approach the landing party, stretching forward not a hand to shake, but their articulated neck, giving their single, dark, fully-dilated eye the best chance to inspect their guests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wel-come,” Trale said, slowly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until now, Elim had been appreciating the design of the creature as if they were on display in a museum - Cardassians of past generations kept collections of </span>
  <em>
    <span>bizarre </span>
  </em>
  <span>living things confined for study and dissection, regardless of their individual personhood.  But when Trale </span>
  <em>
    <span>spoke</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they shattered that connection and presented Elim with a brand new one.  They were still wondrous to look at - an indulgent delicacy to savor with the eyes - but for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ears</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they made Elim feel as if either side of his head had been clapped together with a brick.  The words were </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they labored him, even through the layers of protective shielding Julian had engineered especially for this trip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Julian replied, offering out his hand and hoping Trale would touch it.  “Can you hear me alright, through the shield?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, can,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good!  Very good.  We, um… we are eager to get started in learning about your culture,” Julian said.  “And making sure you are healthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The original call had not been a cry for help, after all.  But still, Julian could not believe that a planet with sound as a physical dimension could coexist comfortably with their words slamming into their bodies.  He anticipated his first Diplomatic mission as a Colonel would end prosperously, with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcura </span>
  </em>
  <span>developing an unspoken form of language, or perhaps protective gear for themselves.  Even now, Julian’s fascination with learning and </span>
  <em>
    <span>curing </span>
  </em>
  <span>was boundless, even on the odd chance the new species had no desire to be cured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I,” Trale said, craning their neck down to align their eye with Julian’s hand, blinking so the tacky crisscross of lashes touched his skin, “Anticipate, This.  For now, I will Show, you to Your living Space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Julian replied, carefully watching Elim’s reactions.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Surely </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale turned, presumably to lead them from the landing pad to their accommodations.  Unnecessary words were skipped, here, and Julian worried it might take him a while to adjust.  Elim, too, was fond of speaking at length, listening to passionate speeches, reading vast volumes of literature and law.  They had arranged to stay for a Standard month, but Julian would abridge it without a second’s hesitation, if Elim were truly in pain.  He just made it difficult to discern, sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silently, Julian offered Elim his arm, indicating it with a little nod of his chin and a smile.  Elim took it, twisting both hands through the gap, holding on tightly.  With the scene relatively quiet again, he could focus on all the planet’s peculiarities as he waded through them - the gelatinous </span>
  <em>
    <span>soil</span>
  </em>
  <span> in particular.  He studied housing communes as they passed them, built up of the same soil and reinforced with panels of copper, as they had seen on the satellite.  A thin tributary of reddish water cut across their path at one point, and after watching Trale cautiously step over it, Julian and Elim did the same.  Trale was taller and had an easier time, but it was not impossible for Julian and Elim to clear, providing they let go of one another long enough to jump across it, on their own.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale was a nimble creature, despite their height and assumed weight.  Their legs were broken into two plated segments, tapering down not to any recognizable shape of foot, but instead into a little bulb of cartilage, flexible and impervious to the elements.  Elim wondered how they did not freeze without any clothing or coverings beyond their exoskeleton; they had no need for a tailor, here, that much was certain.  Elim had not played the role of a genuine diplomat in years, and he hoped his formal suit had not wrinkled irreparably, beneath the heavy protective suit he wore.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, perhaps no one would see it, aside from Julian.  Elim sighed, fogging up the inside of his helmet with the warm breath, as Trale showed them to one of the copper-and-clay huts, pausing and touching the roof of it with their hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, you will be comfortable inside,” they said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Julian replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By sunrise, I will bring, You to the Center,” Trale said, leaving a good deal of gaps for their listeners to fill in.  “We have, one Physician,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Julian said, nodding as if everything was perfectly clear.  “I’m happy to work with them.  You can see some of the samples I brought along… I have sign-language resources we can adapt to your anatomy, and Ambassador Garak here has engineered some truly beautiful padded quilts for noise cancellation.  Thank you for your hospitality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Trale left them, Elim watched them go through a haze of rosy-colored sedimentary deposits; his helmet screen had been repainted by his proximity to Julian’s speech.  At least it was a nice color, he thought, and a fitting one for his charming human partner to produce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still.  It took a great deal of effort from both of them to open the hut’s door.  This was made entirely of copper, stacked in triplicate, neatly cut and welded together without any gaps.  When they were finally able to enter the hut, Elim was too tired to aid in closing the door, but Julian did not mind doing it himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me,” Elim said, turning to survey their quarters, “I am not as young as I once was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?” Julian teased, coming to stand beside Elim once the door was shut tight.  “I thought that was your reason behind never telling me your age in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Julian echoed, because he did not understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>tired,” Elim said, hoping to convey ‘old’ simultaneously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian tutted his tongue, and despite the shielding, the sound made tiny purple droplets crash into Elim’s faceplate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot wear this an entire month,” Elim went on, consciously working to keep his teeth from chattering.  “I already feel my resolve breaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elim…” Julian said, as softly as he could.  “If you prefer to go home, I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no.  No, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to see my husband torturing himself, even if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>likes it from time to time.  I don’t.  I never want you to feel even </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly </span>
  </em>
  <span>inconvenienced when you’re around me.  That is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the promise I made to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re very kind,” Elim struggled to say.  “I need to take this off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout the process of designing and building it together, Julian had given careful consideration to his partner’s claustrophobia.  He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>taken Elim’s insistence - that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go on this mission no matter what - down like a grain of salt.  It did not matter now.  All the preparation in the world was not enough for him to grant Elim any freedom, not yet, but it urged him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring his own comfort, Julian shed his suit efficiently and then dove into the storage pack attached to his like a backpack, although it was not removable and required a hard shell to keep the inner contents safe.  The suit was not necessary for survival in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>atmosphere, but it made the barrage of </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound </span>
  </em>
  <span>less invasive.  It had a dampening effect on the volume level, and managed to limit the creation of colorful sediment, but it was far from completely effective.  They had never actually been to the planet prior to this, and everything was in its first testing phases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stripped it off, leaving himself vulnerable in only a suit of red thermals, hugging him tightly and trapping heat.  With the gloves obscuring his dexterity, he unzipped the pack and removed eight blanket rolls - the soundproofing pads Elim had designed just for this mission.  He filled every gap beneath the door, until not even light could creep inside.  Then he whispered, afraid of getting any louder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me help you.  I hope that’s enough,” he said earnestly, already reaching to unbuckle the seal on Elim’s helmet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The helmet had to go first, as it had the greatest effect on Elim’s condition.  It fed nearly all of his senses the false fear he would be confined forever behind the glass.  With a </span>
  <em>
    <span>click </span>
  </em>
  <span>and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>swish </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the depressurizing air, Julian lifted it and set it down on the ground, unconcerned even if Elim decided to kick it and break it into a thousand pieces.  He wanted Elim to understand his frustration was valid, his comfort was paramount, his love was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Elim said, into a gasp.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words came at Julian in red, deep and passionate and pained, and they stuck into his eyelashes like unbidden tears.  He wiped his eyes with his arm in an attempt to clear them away, but some of the sediment remained behind, feeling gritty without the liquid to accompany it.  Julian glanced over both shoulders to understand their surroundings, to find something of comfort he could offer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not even see a bed, but he was quick to request one for automated transport from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Immediately, he set Elim on the edge of it, allowing it to lend some stability as he finished unfastening Elim’s suit.  He wanted to give Elim a hug as soon as he could, but confinement of any kind would not be comfortable.  Instead, Julian rocked backward on his heels and knelt there in the dirt, watching Elim catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughtfully, Julian covered his mouth with his hand the next time he spoke, still whispering.  Elim could barely hear him, until he removed his hand and let the words reverberate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me take care of you,” Julian had said, before wiping the smear of blue sediment along his thermals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>speak </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me,” Elim said, voice breaking under the horror of this confession.  “Not without that dreadful suit.  I cannot--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian obliged, and gently placed his hands on Elim’s shoulders, steadying him without words. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he signalled, using the sign-language he developed for use with Rali.  It was limited in its range of movement, and fairly repetitive when it came to parsing out nouns and associated verbs, but he knew Elim had at least seen it used during her childhood.  He hoped his meaning would be clear enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim nodded, swallowed, and held his breath as he watched Julian pace around their cabin.  It was circular - well-suited to Julian’s nervous habit - but each footstep resulted in a little cloud of sediment rising up from the mushy, blue ground, and Elim gasped again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You cannot do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I feel everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Same,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Julian signed, drawing his hand like a unifying line between their chests.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>We - not - need to speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ensuring he was gentle and not too forceful, Julian cupped Elim’s cheeks in his hands, and kissed him on the mouth.  When they broke apart again, Elim was breathless, but less anxious than he had been, before.  Slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian nodded, once, to show his approval, before returning diligently to his task of caring for Elim.  It was a tradition dating back to their respective antiquities - Elim read romances of Cardassians building nests for one another, keeping each other safe, while Julian respected the earliest teachings of medicine, of refusing to bring harm before healing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the backpack shell, he removed Elim’s small roll of personal effects.  By necessity of the noise-cancelling padding and all the space it occupied, they needed to travel light.  Still, Elim’s comfort took precedence to Julian’s, and he removed everything Elim would need for their night in the hut.  Anything else they lacked could be replicated and transported from the bay of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana</span>
  </em>
  <span> - such as their shared bed.  It was large and circular, roomy enough for both of them, and it filled most of the hut already.  Julian spread out Elim’s pack, deciding which items were most urgently needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He began with Elim’s cervical support brace.  The space suit precluded its use - Elim would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt like he was choking, wearing both layers together - but it was necessary for Elim to wear it as often as possible at this stage in his life.  It was self-warming, coated in thick quilting, and interfaced with tightly woven carbon fiber mesh for stability.  Like all Cardassians, Elim experienced discomfort and frequent aching in his neck as he aged and the overworked muscles began their degradation.  The scales were simply too heavy on the flesh, and as they sagged, they made Elim susceptible to everything from bone fractures, to breathing problems, to skin tears in conjunction with his seasonal shedding process.  Julian took great pride in arranging Elim’s brace for him, closing it </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>securely enough around the back of his neck, remarking on whichever pattern Elim had selected for the occasion - of course, he had several dozen designs to choose from, to make the device more appealing.  The one he chose for this journey was white and shimmering, to match the uniform Elim wore for Bajoran-Cardassian diplomatic functions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than asking aloud, Julian peeled back the collar of Elim’s suit, to ensure he was in fact wearing a layer of thermals underneath.  It was much too cold for Elim here, without them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, he was wearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>two </span>
  </em>
  <span>layers of thermal clothing, and Julian could not help but laugh, retroactively superimposing his memory of their walk with the fact Elim was waddling along in clothes far too thick for easy movement.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laughter cut through the air in a cloud of pink, and Elim ducked to avoid being hit with the sediment.  Julian wondered if he could catch it and move it out of Elim’s reach, but any attempt at touching it only caused the droplets to double, splitting themselves repeatedly, becoming even smaller and more difficult to contain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next, he guided Elim through his regimen of prescriptions, with several additions to help him cope with this new atmosphere.  Then he opened a packet of water </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>a packet of chocolate powder, and warmed the two of them up together for Elim to drink.  Even the steam occupied a physical space in the air, as the heat caused it to whistle and the sound, in turn, created thick black crystals.  Fascinated by this, and encouraged by Julian’s curiosity as well as his amusement, Elim touched them, and tried to taste one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, it was bitter.  It was not the dark, exotic chocolate flavor he expected based on the contents of the packet.  How odd, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have a taste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian grinned at him, and kissed the back of his hand, as it retreated from the strange art they were creating in the space between them, entirely by accident. Julian was content to see Elim fold his hands together in his lap.  He nodded and moved on quietly to the next task.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim brought practical accessories for the cold weather, and Julian eagerly helped him apply his scarf in a nice loose knot, and then placed sleek but still densely padded earmuffs snugly over his aural ridges.  Everything Elim wore was specially modified to accommodate his anatomy in contrast to Julian’s, and Julian loved nothing more than making his loved ones feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>welcome</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the dressing done, he leaned back on their bed.  It had come directly from their shared quarters on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and was already outfitted with the cushions and blankets they were familiar with.  Elim was very particular about sharing blankets, always afraid of feeling stifled, despite his distaste for cold weather in the first place.  Julian gave up two of the three blankets for Elim to use as he desired, all his own.  It was a delicate balancing act, for the two of them to share the body heat and intimacy Elim and Julian each enjoyed, without setting off Elim’s anxiety.  Since he had just come from a particularly bad episode within the confines of the space suit, Julian proceeded with caution, and laid down flat on his back, inviting Elim to settle on top of him at his leisure.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim shivered as he reclined, but felt the age-old comfort of Julian knowing his boundaries to their </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact </span>
  </em>
  <span>limit - Julian settled one arm loosely around Elim’s waist, and left the other side open for him to roll free if he wished.  This love affair did not feature confinement; it relied only on </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Elim considered it with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  Trust, </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all people.  Hmm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could not resist the urge to speak, voice trembling even as he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it about you,” Elim mused, taking Julian’s other hand and setting it over his neck brace; Julian liked to slide his fingers inside it, gracing Elim’s neck and splaying to enjoy the tension.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Julian was barely audible, but the sound still materialized.  Elim’s words had, as well, and the colors blurred together between their lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I am with you, I am nearly always facing my fears,” Elim admitted.  “I don’t know what to make of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Julian said, gently pricking Elim’s sagging scales with his fingernails, forcing them to flex beneath the brace, “I like to think it means you feel safe with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, that’s it,” Elim replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep within minutes. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the most part, Kelas completed the ceremony alone.  Constable Ro remained behind at Kira’s recommendation, to ensure the ceremony was not disrupted by dissidents.  In the past, she would have found herself firmly on </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> side, easily swayed by proclamations of distrust to all Cardassians.  But now, she and Kelas dauntlessly - and peacefully - appealed to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bajor found strength in its position as a benevolent overseer - acting in harmony with its deepening study of the Prophets.  Cardassia needed aid and stability, and when all others turned away in disgust, Bajor was the ally who gave it.  The Cardassians - especially those who witnessed the horrors of either Occupation - insisted on continuing their three-century-long course of reparations.  Kelas Parmak had seen both through the hazy confines of prison cells, and it only made them feel pity for others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they had completed the scripture readings, Kelas stayed behind at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kejtaca</span>
  </em>
  <span> - its new name evoked themes of freedom and the ability to find and trace oneself - while Ro stole away several minutes to herself to comm Kira.  Kelas was eager to showcase the newly-named facilities not to reporters or diplomats, but to those who needed it most - patients.  They shared their time-tested recommendations for those ailments unique to the hybrid population, and then - with equal vigor - showed those individuals how to trace both halves of their ancestry down the expansive stone pillar.  It was the first of its kind, showing Cardassian names respectfully and out in the open, and Kelas was pleased to explain the inscriptions to their younger attendees - who were unfamiliar with Cardassian writing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ro returned, Kelas was stooped forward, braced against their cane, trailing one callused finger down a gem-studded line of Bajoran history, to the rapt attention of their audience.  The young Cardassian man, Rugal, had featured prominently in the campaign for Unity, and he stood over Kelas’s shoulder alongside his Bajoran wife Chiry, and their yet-unnamed daughter.  They had elected to wait until this site was christened, in celebration of the Union.  She was nearing two years old and answered to all manner of affectionate terms in both languages, and her eyes were impossibly wide as Kelas held her hand and showed her the most ancient roots of her family tree, symbolically shown with great opals and bronze inscriptions.  Her whole body - down to each scaly segment of her fingers - was wrapped in sturdy braces; Julian had designed them for her based on the Elaysian standard.  She had hatched prematurely, her skin was soft to the point of being cut by its own scales, and her body temperature warred with itself between the dependent reptilian blood and the fiery mammalian.  Kelas gently held her hand, and recited some of her great-ancestors’ names aloud, wondering if they might spark inspiration for her parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ro knelt behind their shoulder, setting one supportive hand against their back, in case her sudden presence might scare them and throw them off balance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Kelas asked, pausing between two names, turning their head just enough to notice Ro over their arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kira has a-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahem,”  </span>
  </em>
  <span>she became more quiet, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>task </span>
  </em>
  <span>for us.  On Trill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?  Of what nature, dear Laren?  Excuse me a moment, friends...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood with Ro’s assistance, and turned away from the young family.  Rugal touched their forearm, affectionately called them </span>
  <em>
    <span>holo'vahti</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and told them to take all the time they needed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She made mention of lost souls,” Ro explained, in a hushed tone.  “There is a harvest festival we observe to guide our Lost to their homes… we’ve just finished the equivalent, here, for the living.  We must do another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On Trill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On Trill,” Ro nodded.  “By request of her friend, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Orb</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelas chuckled, bringing Ro the comfort to do the same; it had been a long time since she spoke out against her culture at all, even teasingly, and the act brought her the same rebellious thrill as it had in her youth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we can arrange that,” Kelas decided.  “I would even call you and I experts, by now.  Let me gather my things…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already done,” Ro whispered, hauling up her heavy, low-slung shoulder bag, which had - until now - disguised itself in the golden ruffles of her formal uniform.  She patted it in indication, and Kelas complimented her thoroughness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon--” Rugal interrupted, reaching out for Kelas’s arm while they, in turn, were stretching their cane to touch Ro’s shoulder-bag.  “Would we… be permitted to attend?  I would love the chance to ask Vedek Kira for her blessing, if that would be appropriate…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no Kira </span>
  <em>
    <span>line</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” Chiry piped in; her tempo and boldness were typically Bajoran, but her tone was soft and almost apologetic.  Rugal took her hand to bolster her.  “We assume you meant the Vedek, herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Kelas kindly replied.  “Though I must say, the Vedek and her companion would likely prefer you to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>inappropriate</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with such matters.  Accompany us, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelas made a sweeping gesture, letting the dangling fringe of their coat drape over the crook in their cane, encouraging the younger family to precede them on the walk to the docking ring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p><span>Julian awoke the following morning not due to the planet’s spectacular sunrise, but due to the sudden absence of pleasant, humming weight on his chest.  Elim had already gotten up and begun padding nervously around the hut, mentally preparing himself to return to the sentence carried out by his space suit.  There were contracts and treaties to sign, libraries of scientific knowledge to exchange, and wellness checks to conduct.  He </span><em><span>did </span></em><span>find the </span><em><span>Zcuran </span></em><span>people</span> <span>alluring - imposing and fascinating - and it was hardly their fault that he found their home world inhospitable.  Part of his duty as a diplomat was to endure discomfort for the sake of peace.  At least he was not alone in this, anymore. </span></p><p>
  <span>With a loving glance at Julian, Elim collected the pieces of his suit, preparing to don them after Julian gingerly removed his neck brace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be… ready when you are,” Elim labored to say, watching the words swirl themselves into a gray fog.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian reached out to touch the words.  He found them solid to the touch, and he wrapped them in Elim’s brace as he rolled it up and tucked it away inside the backpack shell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he replied, softly, delighted to see Elim catch the sentiment in his hands.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Elim agreed, in sign.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should have focused… more on this language.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Indispensable now, isn’t it</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, yes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here… we’ll keep the ear coverings on today,” Julian suggested, quietly as ever.  “You let me know the </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment </span>
  </em>
  <span>you need to take the suit off, and I’ll get you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home?” Elim spoke, purely to see what color the word existed in.  The resulting burst did not correlate to any Terran or Cardassian definition, of course, nor any </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>one.  Instead, it was composed of the volume and speed of speech, carving out a precise amount of the air and redecorating it with sound.  There was still much to understand about this phenomenon... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, home was silver, when spoken slowly.  Glittery, sharp, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cutting</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And yet somehow familiar and safe, as long as he was beside Julian. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, anyway,” Julian said.  “Or back to the ship.  Somewhere safer than out in the open, but less constrictive than your suit… besides, there are a few things I want to pick up before tonight, to make you more comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim took Julian’s arm, and kept his grip on it throughout most of the day, even when they reconnected with Trale, their host, and began inventorying the planet’s regional hospital.  From there, they transported to the aerospace research facility where the satellite had been launched from.  The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcura </span>
  </em>
  <span>themselves were not yet spacefaring, and had only recently begun to send unmanned probes into the skies.  Julian - preening slightly, and only being encouraged by Elim’s tugging on his arm - admitted the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fates </span>
  </em>
  <span>brought the satellite to his possession, because he was uniquely equipped to provide aid and welcome the planet into Bajoran-Cardassian protection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve never seen anything like it,” Julian admitted, eyes sparkling “Now… how often do you rely on text-based or other nonverbal forms of communication?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Infrequent,” said Trale, poking at the PADD Julian had brought along.  “We, were not Aware, of different circumstances, on different planets, but Children do, use screens.  Their Shells, are not developed, it is safety,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Julian said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We like to use written words </span>
  <em>
    <span>well </span>
  </em>
  <span>into maturity,” Elim added, giving the PADD a more affectionate touch.  “We may read them silently, or orate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are, Cardazzzzian,” Trale enunciated, eager to get the sound right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>buzz </span>
  </em>
  <span>was caught in Trale’s mouthguard - they wore one, too, to be polite to their unShelled visitors - but Elim watched it twist and paint the transparent shield with a veritable rainbow of different hues.  Trale reached inside of it with one of their hooked claws, gathering the sediment and scraping it away, letting it drip down to the dirt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Elim replied, nodding earnestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I enjoy you.  To Orate is…” Trale was thoughtful, “based on Light.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Julian asked, intrigued.  “For us it means </span>
  <em>
    <span>speech</span>
  </em>
  <span>, audio, a performance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no, I will arrange to show one.  They are, beautiful to beHold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe it,” said Julian.  “What do you say to that, Elim?  Maybe after we get some rest - a night out at the theatre?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Trale agreed.  “I will have arranged it, next Night.  It will be my pleasure to beHold, you, also.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They drew their speckled claw toward the grip Elim kept on Julian’s arm, indicating the bond with distant fascination.  Julian grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our races enjoy physical contact with those we cherish,” Julian explained.  “Does it… I’m sorry, does it make you uncomfortable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without intending it, Elim felt all of his self-worth heaved onto this one question, and he watched Trale tip the scales. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, new to me, that is it,” Trale explained.  “You are correct to say it is not comfortable, but for Us, to touch one another, it is heavy.  But to beHold you, it is different, I have no Opposition.  I admire,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As do I,” Elim said, relieved.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Julian said, nuzzling the side of Elim’s face shield to share his joy despite the distance.  “We will plan for tomorrow night, then.  Perhaps, um, after your medical examination, Ambassador?  If you’re still feeling up to it, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good.  I’m looking forward to learning more about your eardrums.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Trale said, not completely catching his meaning.  “You will find your way, to the Home, unassisted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you,” Julian said, offering his hand for Trale to shake.  By now, Trale learned to at least curl one finger around Julian’s, and allow Julian to lead the movement.  “We will see you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale only blinked to acknowledge this, peeling their tacky eyelid up from the base of its lid and net of protective lashes.  The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcurans</span>
  </em>
  <span> were a sparing people, when it came to vocalizations, and with all of the details already professed and agreed to, there was no more reason for them to stay.  So, they turned and proceeded down the path, trudging through the bubbly blue sand and sending the sound of each shift up into the air.  Transfixed, Julian watched the noise itself mingle with the sand.  It was no wonder this species did not utilize a physical sign language; each passage through the air created noise and clutter.  But lights, instead…?  He was looking forward to the special </span>
  <em>
    <span>oration </span>
  </em>
  <span>very much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim, meanwhile, was compelled to focus on Trale through the cloud.  His years of training forced him to look past distractions - focus on the target.  It sometimes helped to ground him, too, when he was on the verge of an anxious breakdown, or any unacceptable vulnerability.  He looked past the sound, up and over the sprawling vines on the ground, their fallen fruits, and finally connected to Trale as if they were a tree.  It was the best way to camouflage them into the landscape - with their height and barrel-like proportions, the scales and feathers patched across their exoskeleton like bark, floral buds, leaves… The memory of their eye appeared again in his head; there was an intelligent depth to it.  Elim knew there were great writings hiding in these people </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he made it his mission to uncover them.  If Julian could test the stress of their eardrums and lend them his knowledge of sign language, surely Elim could impart his own areas of expertise in sewing quilts and writing novels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Julian prodding his shoulder, inquisitively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we ought to get you back to the hut,” Julian said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like to gather some of my effects from the ship…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can go back for them later,” Julian insisted.  “We’ve been out for at least an hour longer than yesterday.  You don’t look well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And I would prefer to be with you for the duration of this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>episode</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he spat the word out.  “I won’t be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian did not push Elim further by arguing, and instead helped support his weight as they walked to the ship, crawled up the ramp, and fought through the clattering echoes to find their things.  Julian took responsibility for rifling through his own messy drawers as well as Elim’s far more organized ones, and gathering each item Elim requested, even though his voice was trembling and broken.  A case of chocolates, a vial of Julian’s cologne, a thicker scarf, a handful of novels on data-rod, his favorite frontlit PADD for easy reading… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot even make sense of what I am saying; I cannot hear myself,” Elim whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Elim,” Julian insisted.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can hear you.  Is that everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim nodded in traditional human fashion, and Julian stowed all of their new acquisitions into his backpack in favor of holding Elim in his arms.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” he repeated.  “Let’s get you to bed, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t stand it,” Elim grumbled.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to talk to you, my love</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll write.  Exchange letters, like old times… come on, I’ll hold you steady.  Just there… </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian gave the command to turn off the overhead lights and lock the loading gate.  Then, he transported them both directly into the hut, where he rushed to stuff the soundproof padding under the door for Elim’s safety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim pried himself free of the suit as soon as the hut was sealed.  Julian genuinely enjoyed doting on his partner - Elim ordinarily would have called it </span>
  <em>
    <span>fussing</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and he helped Elim get out of the heavy suit, then went to apply his brace, provide him with a ration packet and one of the chocolates, and so on.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gradually, Elim relaxed - the sight of Julian at work was enough to charm his senses into compliance - and he took inventory of the new items in the backpack for comfort.  Julian massaged a little spritz of the cologne </span>
  <em>
    <span>deep </span>
  </em>
  <span>into the pressure point at Elim’s wrist, offered him his favorite of the imported truffles, and helped him settle into bed beneath the safekeeping of their blanket.  Elim held his wrist up to his chin for a long while, until the scent transferred, mingling with the nervous sweat that had pooled inside the spiny ridge there.  He adored it - Julian did not wear it around patients or students, therefore it reminded Elim of their more intimate ventures.  It lifted the damp, heavy air with a welcome layer of spice, and Elim delighted in the tingling sensation its inhalation gave to the scenting organ at the back of his throat.  Julian watched this unfold, and gently reached to pat Elim’s chin dry, before offering him another truffle.  Elim had rolled his eyes at this, on behalf of a diet that only conveniently appeared within arguments, but smiled and eaten it, regardless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When all of this was finished, Elim took out his PADD and tapped it to his cleaned chin, in quiet indication of excitement, of a secret to be shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He began writing at length, then presented the screen to Julian when he was done:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They are a fascinating species, aren’t they?  Forgive me, but Cardassians do not have a long, illustrious history of peaceful interchanges with alien races; like we do of War and Brutality.  I have never been a strictly Militaristic man, nor - I must admit - am I a linguist of any great renown, but I find myself looking forward to studying their written language and giving whatever aid I can in developing it further.  It isn’t as though they are in pain, but perhaps they could be made more efficient, and that does appeal deeply to my sense of order.  I am grateful for the opportunity to be here with you, even if I do not look it beneath all those layers of polycarbonate. True diplomacy is a new endeavour to me, but I can see it has its merits. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian was able to read the message quite quickly, and slid into their bedcovers with a smile on his face.  He took his own PADD from the backpack and typed a reply, only to be shown to Elim, rather than </span>
  <em>
    <span>sent </span>
  </em>
  <span>anywhere:</span>
</p><p>
  <b>I thought you did remarkably well, today.  I don’t think our host would disagree, either… </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed the PADD to Elim, as an affectionate </span>
  <em>
    <span>hello</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Elim stooped to join him under the blanket.  Once Elim had hold of the device, Julian took to patting Elim’s two allotted blankets carefully into place beneath his chin, around his shoulders, filling any space the cold air might otherwise infiltrate, while still keeping Elim only loosely confined.  This thoughtfulness earned him a kiss, in traditional Cardassian style, of Elim turning and pressing his forehead against Julian’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reading the message, however, made him laugh out loud.  The sound was blue, and Julian collected it in his hands, wondering how he might keep evidence of such a wonderful moment forever and ever.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Absurd</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Garak typed back.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you manage to forget all the time I spent on the verge of weeping?  Fortunately our host missed it too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian had not felt such honesty and attraction to Elim in years, and he stared up at him in awe - distracting Elim </span>
  <em>
    <span>just enough </span>
  </em>
  <span>to allow Julian a clear path to the tablet, so he could amend his message: </span>
</p><p>
  <b>I would say Trale has very good taste.  But you… are all… mine. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers crawled up beneath the hem of Elim’s brace, and he held the softening scales with such reverence, keeping their foreheads pressed together and their eyes in deep, thoughtful contact until Elim - feeling properly loved and protected - was able to rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Trill, Kelas and Ro arrived with their stowaways, after booking overnight passage on a Cardassian freighter.  Already, Kira, Jadzia, and Rali had combined their efforts to gather the newly-Joined together.  The caves were bustling with attention when Kelas led the way down to the center pool, digging their cane into each crack within the stone-faced steps.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rugal and Chiry, alternating the task of carrying their child, followed several paces behind, nervous to make Kira’s acquaintance.  Rugal held a shaky memory of her from his troubled youth, but it had since been gilded, elevated, placed on a pedestal… he and Chiry were familiar with her from the political process of the Unification, but they had no direct contact.  Especially not over such a personal matter as their daughter’s christening… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kira was at the center of a gathered crowd, all dappled with Jadzia’s blue glow, as it fell over their shoulders.  Rali stepped in and out between the spectators, but rushed out to greet Kelas and Ro as soon as she noticed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s all this?” Kelas asked, already taking their </span>
  <em>
    <span>taya </span>
  </em>
  <span>into a hug.  “This looks like such fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It may last several weeks,” Rali said, as if the notion exhausted her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Berajin</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ro inferred, making herself known over Kelas’s shoulder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That and some Earth ones, and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>zhian’tara</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Rali explained.  “It takes us much longer to chant our names.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can imagine,” Ro said, with a muddled laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you having a good time?” Kelas asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she replied, sounding a lot like her mother.  “I don’t get to do a </span>
  <em>
    <span>zhian’tara </span>
  </em>
  <span>since Miele has no previous Hosts for me to meet.  But I have dressed up.  Taya Elim sent us candies; Dad sent a nice letter I need to still answer but I haven’t had time yet.  Lots to help with for right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see that,” Kelas grinned, taking another step forward so Rugal and Chiry could see the festivities more clearly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from the blue glow emanating from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orb</span>
  </em>
  <span> pool, the cave remained in darkness.  What little light fought its way in from the mouth of the cave faded by the time one made it halfway down the staircase, but Cardassian eyes were well acclimated to lower light.  Rali’s suggestion of </span>
  <em>
    <span>dressing up </span>
  </em>
  <span>was not perfectly understandable to these casual observers - while she wore her usual white robes with the addition of a peach-colored stole to mark the special occasion, it was the precise nature of her spots that she had modified.  She filled in the patchy, blank areas of her skin with passages borrowed reverently from Jadzia, Lenara, and her mother’s spot patterns.  She had recited these while others spoke the names of their symbionts’ past Hosts.  It was not exactly the same, but she smiled nervously as Jadzia thanked her for the honor, and told her to take one of the fine, delicate candies Elim had sent from the communal marble dish, for her efforts at preserving these memories.  So long as she did not forget she was half human, herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are starting the other part at midnight tonight,” Rali continued explaining to Ro and Kelas, unsure of the visitors who stood behind them.  “Not everyone here knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>about their symbionts, but I know almost all of it, so I am going to stay up and help with it, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So are we,” Kelas agreed, gesturing between themself and Ro.  “We were called on to help some lost souls find their way home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jadzia will like to hear that,” Rali said.  “Here, come and see her.  You… you can too, I don’t know why or why not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These are some friends of ours,” Kelas said.  “Rugal, and Chiry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged but tried to keep her tone kind to the strangers, and welcomed them to follow her through the crowd to the place Jadzia and Dax resided.  When Rugal and Chiry shifted, Rali caught sight of their baby, and her voice changed entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is this?” she asked, gently.  “Other than a hybrid, I can see that… who are you, little baby?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were hoping to have the Vedek bless her,” Chiry said.  “She does not have a name, but she is our </span>
  <em>
    <span>keikeifi </span>
  </em>
  <span>for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Daughter</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Rugal translated.  “For now, for always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She will have a name right now,” Rali said, perplexed.  “You just need to look for it.  Why haven’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>read</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Read </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Rali?” Ro said firmly.  “Our names aren’t written on us, like yours.  Most of us Bajorans are named after what wishes our parents had, at the time - and this family </span>
  <em>
    <span>wishes </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have confirmation before making a decision.  It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so good </span>
  </em>
  <span>for us to have that right… to take as many years as we want to choose meaningful names, again.  For many years, our children were named </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>that helped their parents foresee a way out of the Occupation--” she picked up an older Bajoran dialect, “--camps full of kids named </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brave</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Resilient</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vengeance</span>
  </em>
  <span>… I even knew a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Massacre</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I was little - isn’t that </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  But now we can wait, and listen to peaceful teachings to help us decide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us?  It isn’t you,” Rali sighed, then apologized.  “Sorry, them, you.  Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are here as guests of Vedek Kira,” Kelas added.  “And friends of ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m being friendly,” Rali insisted, still sounding confused.  “I can show you right to Kira, now.  I’m just surprised there is no name, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When at last she showed them the way to Kira’s seat for the festivities - a set of cushions propped up on the stone edge of the holy lake - Jadzia pulled her aside.  Rali was surprised to lose track of the spoken words being exchanged behind her, as Rugal and Chiry finally got Kira’s attention; Rali’s hearing had always been exceptional, to an intrusive degree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, when Jadzia reached forward to touch her, the ambient sound simply vanished.  All she could focus on was the piercing light from Jadzia’s eyes - fully dilated and deep black - as the rest of the cave and its curiosities faded into stark whiteness.  Rali found it even more confusing, but she could not break away from Jadzia’s gaze.  It guided her, as it often did, to an important realization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jadzia spoke, it was not in a way anyone could hear.  Rali could understand it, symbiotically, as some ghosting outline of Dax rippled through her subconscious to touch the Miele symbiont, and the vital nerve Rali had relied on for communication since she was in her mother’s womb.  It made her feel awake and alive, more so than speaking and listening ever could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Rali responded, at the sudden inundation of feelings, concepts, and memories Jadzia Dax presented. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your father would have something to say about the assumptions you are making, Rali.  Think about what you have said.  And come back to me, tomorrow. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Trale arrived exactly as scheduled, to undergo a series of medical tests with Julian.  Of course, Elim was by his side, carrying on multiple professional roles at once - he recorded the readings and figures Julian announced, then translated them along a written cipher of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>language for Trale to read later.  When Trale caught sight of what Elim was doing, however, they paused the examination to gather some paper and ink.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>paper was thick and pulpy, apparently able to withstand the interference from most frequencies of sound, and the ink was dark and permanent.  With these implements, they wrote out an invitation to that evening’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oration</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so Elim could translate it and read it, far more comfortably than he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the details being exchanged.  He gave Trale a grateful nod, and retired away to the makeshift metal desk Julian had set up in this medical tent, while Trale returned to the examination table, positioning their ear canal beneath Julian’s lamp.  They were an obedient, friendly, accommodating creature, and Elim looked forward to their blooming diplomatic partnership - especially with the knowledge it would continue to progress over greater and greater distances.  Once Julian’s wellness inspections were complete, they could return home and conduct any future business with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcurans</span>
  </em>
  <span> over special, soundproofed, voice-to-text communication channels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, when he glanced up from his cipher and the handcrafted invitation, he could not deny the fact he was looking forward to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oration</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Theatre was an ancient tradition on Cardassia, although it had fallen out of custom throughout the Bajoran Occupation, and had not had the strength to revive itself since.  Elim had attended an assortment of plays in his youth - from serious to satirical, with performers in heavy, starched suits, gem studded masks, or in almost nothing at all to demonstrate their defiance to the State.  But he could not recall a performance centered around lights - those were best left to interrogation chambers - and it made him wary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was relieved when Julian finished his tests and offered them a break at the hut, before going to the show.  Elim was free to remove his suit and lay flat on his back on the bed, staring up at the swirling clouds of ambient noise, while Julian made a trip to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana </span>
  </em>
  <span>alone, to replicate their dinner.  He made a noble attempt to control his breathing and enjoy the solitude - the room was as silent as it could possibly be, without Julian there to double the sound, and with Elim lying as still as possible.  Regardless of this - the temporary, imagined comfort - Elim was pleased to see Julian return with the telltale silver chafing case tucked under his arm, and the stem of a spindly yellow daisy between his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Elim simply waved his hand, and flashed Julian a confused expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dinner, proper</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Julian signed back, balancing the case so he could touch his chin with his thumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set the silver case down on the mattress - the only furniture available in their borrowed room - and opened it, unfolding it into two separate trays.  Then he began distributing the components of their meal, all sealed in little pouches, steaming up the plastic coating, but looking more appetizing than anything Elim had eaten since they landed.  It was a nice gesture, on Julian’s part.  Rations packets wore on Elim’s patience, even when they could provide for all of his nutritional requirements while tasting like exotic chocolate.  Meals and good conversations comprised the very foundation of their relationship, and Elim felt himself becoming almost giddy with each menu item Julian unwrapped and offered to him.  Finally, Julian set the flower between their plates, as if to pretend they were somewhere far more formal and romantic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim gazed down at their feast, ignoring the filmy wrappers and replicator pattern receipts, and he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have never found myself looking forward to a replicated meal </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>so much,” Elim smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Julian said, mirroring his expression precisely - little acts like this forced Elim to admit he would have made a good intelligence agent - “perhaps it’s just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>company</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Or the conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim sorted through the tray to find his silverware packet, and set to work slicing into the seared salmon fillet, one of his favorite Earth meals.  In addition to this, he had his choice of starchy, long-stemmed Cardassian seed-vegetables, where the encasement could be chewed on and enjoyed for </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours </span>
  </em>
  <span>before reaching the delicate, spicy seed inside.  This was complemented by Bajoran </span>
  <em>
    <span>teredi </span>
  </em>
  <span>pudding, a dish Elim had favored for much of his life, and a spiral-peeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyn </span>
  </em>
  <span>stone-fruit.  There was also a cup of salty </span>
  <em>
    <span>jhezc </span>
  </em>
  <span>broth, which hailed from Kelas’s home-province, thin and practical for eating in a rush.  But Elim had every intention to take his time, on this particular evening; Julian, however, still had a tendency to take his meals quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to miss the opening monologue...” Julian seemed to read his mind and made the excuse, as Elim watched him move from his first course to his second, already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trale will come to collect us, I am sure,” Elim said, “in case I misinterpreted their times to Standard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt that,” Julian replied, with his mouth full of pulpy </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyn</span>
  </em>
  <span> fruit.  “That you’d’ve made a mistake, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To slow himself to match his partner’s pace, he took a break from eating and grabbed his PADD.  He began typing his account of the morning’s medical examinations - made of Trale and several other volunteer members of their family - to share his enthusiasm with Elim.  His preliminary findings did not uncover any serious physical damage - in fact, he began running backward projections to determine how the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcurans </span>
  </em>
  <span>had evolved to such a standard.  Their blissful ignorance of other worlds experiencing sound in different formats had not caused their downfall, but learning about outside planets and species had sparked a curiosity in many of them.  Therefore, Julian was already drafting designs for a cochlear dampener as well as using what he learned from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>anatomy to devise solutions for reversing hearing loss in ageing Humanoids.  Elim glanced over his notes and nodded as he read along.  Rather than give a verbal reply, he set one of his hands on the table - disguising the gesture as unfolding a napkin for later use - then moved his fingers to settle over Julian’s, interlocking them one at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were finished with their dinner - and they did adopt a more leisurely pace - they strapped back into their padded suits and prepared to take in the show.  They held hands for the whole walk to the meeting ground; the gesture felt more familiar than actively comforting, through the heavy woven fabric, but Elim </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.  The reprieve at dinner was welcome and necessary, but he could not subdue the fear that a light-based theatre performance would simply not agree with him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the assignment on like a much younger spy - like his much younger </span>
  <em>
    <span>self </span>
  </em>
  <span>- except this time he was taking a seat beside his devoted partner, rather than the cringeworthy Gul-of-the-week he used for information and nothing more.  Oh, he had gone to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>theatre </span>
  </em>
  <span>dozens of times, in such company.  He hoped it would be more enjoyable with Julian. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale met them at the central ring of the path - the one they walked each day from the hut to the civic center, where both the medical and aerospace facilities were situated off of spokes in the wheel.  This area, too, was circular, and Elim made note of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>practicality.  The ring had been enhanced with a thatched bench, ruby red cushions, and a stage surrounded by panels of reflective glass.  They only acted as mirrors from certain angles, Elim noticed, as he and Julian sat down together on the bench.  Trale sat beside them, tapping at their chin as they had seen Julian do in his sign-language, but only to indicate they were wearing a shield for their guests’ protection.  Julian grinned and thanked them, and Elim continued focusing on his surroundings.  He hated to think a romantic night with his husband was being reduced to the shambles of an uncomfortable mission, nothing more, before it had even begun.  Some of his paranoia must have shown in his face, he thought, because Julian was kneading his hand </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard </span>
  </em>
  <span>through both sets of gloves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Elim mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Orator will be there,” Trale took this as an invitation to speak, and gestured with one claw to the center of the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our plays are similar,” Julian said happily.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are three Orators in this, story,” Trale continued.  “The third will summarize the, other one and two, to assist you understanding, it,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, that’s thoughtful of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not, likely understand, anyway,” Trale was blunt, but still cordial.  “The lighting is not, something you familiarize with, in your language?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right,” Julian said, “but we’re still looking forward to seeing it.  I’m sure the </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotions </span>
  </em>
  <span>will convey themselves perfectly well to us, don’t you worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim gave him a momentary look of admiration.  With each passing second, he became more aware of just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>at home </span>
  </em>
  <span>Julian felt here.  Emotions, translated into colors and intensities?  Oh, he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>that, he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrive </span>
  </em>
  <span>on that.  Elim swallowed hard, and mumbled out how much he was looking forward to the show, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first Orator emerged from somewhere behind the stage, crawling up onto it on all four legs.  When they stood, they stood with their back to the audience, and their face close to the largest of the mirrors.  They were dressed in a robe far more eye catching than Trale’s - even without any deep understanding of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>fashion, Elim could tell this was a style reserved for special occasions.  Julian was following a similar line of thought, and feeling as though he was about to watch the thrilling conclusion to an opera on Earth.  The robe had a heavy train and vast, dangling sleeves, all of which sparkled in the light from the mirror.  Then, the performer removed a glowing sphere from each sleeve, taking them in opposing hands, squeezing them to change the intensity of light each emitted.  The color began changing, too, moving in a satisfying gradient from white to rosy gold to bright pink and deep purple; Elim and Julian were transfixed.  As long as it changed slowly, Elim did not foresee any discomfort, but of course this could not remain the case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At a particularly emotive passage of the show, the bulbs began flashing, alternating with one another, reflections bouncing off of the mirror and every sequin on the performer’s costume.  Elim felt them almost as viscerally as he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound - the reflections attacked him like endless lines of soldiers, until he feared his shield was beginning to crack.  In reality, it had begun to fog up as he hyperventilated, causing the onslaught of reflections to double themselves, again and again, between his translucent face-shield and the fog.  It seemed like the lights were moving toward him, stifling him, and the heavy, humid air - thickened further by the sound of his breathing - certainly did not help matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The colorful lights had been a pleasant distraction, but when they were white and flashing, he thought of himself being put on trial by Tain, directly, in an otherwise empty Judicial chamber, underground, echoing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stifling</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  From there his mind retreated - as it always did - to the small box in which he was punished throughout his youth.  It was symbolic of the discipline his mind was said to lack, it was the only place he could learn by example. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, Julian was not watching the show at all.  He was focused intently on Elim, watching his eyes dart around the confines of the shield, watching him rush through his breathing.  But, like Elim could not </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in this environment, the raised anxiety meant he could not </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>well, either.  His vision was clouded and duplicated, and he saw flashes approaching and receding, even when Julian reached in to intervene.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Elim</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said gently.  “Elim, can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim’s eyes rolled backward.  It was more bearable than trying to focus them forward, anymore.  His breathing remained quick and labored.  Through his daze, he became aware of Julian placing one steady hand on his knee, leaning up against his helmet and speaking in a firm, doctorly way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale’s hand followed; Elim recognized the sensation only because it was unfamiliar to him.  Their hand was cold and spiky, sending shivers through his suit, no matter how thick it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I show concern?” Trale asked.  “Must it end?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The show?  Please, yes,” Julian said, narrowly avoiding panic.  He had observed hundreds of seizures throughout his tenure, but it was more stressful when it affected his spouse.  “And don’t speak, please.  Have everyone stay as still as they can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unlatched the shield from the front of Elim’s helmet, and patted his cheek to try and recall his attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elim, focus on me,” he said, feeling more confident with the shield out of his way. “It’s alright, dear, I’ve got you… it’ll pass.  Bashir to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana </span>
  </em>
  <span>automatic transport system</span>
  <em>
    <span>--</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He weighed the benefits and detriments of transporting back to the hut, or even back to ship and flying as fast as they could out of the atmosphere.  But when Elim opened his eyes again, he did so with Julian’s thumb gently blotting away the saliva that had pooled at the corner of his parted lips.  He was still breathing heavily, but Julian put one hand over his wrist to help remind him of his pulse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--send me a medkit, Bashir out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… how long was I out…?” Elim asked, trying to parse together what he heard.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just under two minutes,” Julian replied.  “Shh, stay quiet…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nn--” Elim coughed, and Julian took a sterile cloth from the newly-materialized medkit, and blotted Elim’s mouth dry again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving slowly, Trale returned their hand to Elim’s knee, displaying concern.  They were careful not to upset the air, not to send any sound into motion, and Elim welcomed the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize,” Elim said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Trale repeated the sound as best they could, through their more widely spaced lips.  “It brings no offense, to us, for you to have safety,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to get you home,” Julian decided, holding his voice back to a whisper.  “Properly, this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My dear</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elim said, and his voice was raspy, “I will explain…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to explain--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Elim said, back.  “I am letting myself… </span>
  <em>
    <span>do this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Let me… be vulnerable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali continued to carry out her caretaking duties, even with Jadzia’s statement gnawing away at her composure.  A little while after midnight - and only a small way into the ritual chant - she excused herself from the table the new Hosts had gathered around, placed a comm to her mother, and then transported home to go to bed.  She did not feel up to walking, even though it was a short distance and she usually loved trudging through the permafrost, especially when it was glowing in the moonlight and the midwinter perennials were in bloom.  At home, she slept restlessly, turning over and straining her muscles, waiting for something to click in her mind.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was finally asleep when Ezri came to visit her the following morning, before the sun was up.  Ezri was leaning forward and peering into the door-camera, hoping to lend Rali a friendly face to wake up to, rather than the sharp chirrup of the tone.  Groggy, Rali noticed the light pulsing from her communication screen, and she rolled over and stumbled for the front door.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, sweetheart?” Ezri said, right away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali favored this sense of urgency and directness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jadzia told me to think about what I said.  I thought about it all night, but it didn’t change it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, did you say something wrong?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali’s face twisted into a pout, both thoughtful and annoyed at the prospect of being incorrect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think so,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>think,” Ezri was gentle, “Jadzia wanted you to think about what it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounded like</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not necessarily what the words were.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bolstered with this and a good bowl of oatmeal, she returned to the Caves to reunite with Jadzia, her Fate.  Those who were observing the festival had cleared from the Cave to rest at nearby guesthouses; even Kira, Ro, Kelas, and their friends were nowhere in sight.  When Rali entered, respectfully dressed in one of her Caretaker’s robes, the space was empty, and nearly silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jadzia was at rest, beneath the water.  The sight would have spooked anyone but Rali, who was familiar with seeing her non-corporeal Guide in all manner of strange forms and positions; their relationship was not one based on appearance or commonality, but on mutual respect and fascination.  And, more practically, on interpreting concepts for one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali leaned over the rocky rim of the pool and cleared her throat.  The scratchy sound was sufficient to wake Jadzia, who lifted herself from the water where Dax was sleeping, and met Rali’s eyes with great intensity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you do as I asked?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought about it all of yesterday, but I didn’t know what you wanted me to answer,” Rali admitted.  “I asked Mom about it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Jadzia said, with a genuine smile.  “Asking for help is </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s embarrassing,” Rali shrugged.  “Talking isn’t good for me, that much.  I didn’t like it before… I think it’s more fun now, but it gets me into trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh sweetheart,” Jadzia said, clutching at her chest, aching with motherly affection, “you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>like your father.  Come and sit with me, let me show you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali had always taken comfort in the special symbiotic water, thick and efficient for relaying thoughts and energy, warm and nourishing, swirling silvery-white.  She stepped over the barrier and into the pool, soaking herself - ceremonial robes and all.  When she was as submerged as possible, with the water drifting just above her navel, she extended her arms to Jadzia, ready for whatever might come next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like him,” Jadzia echoed her previous thought.  “You have an amazing ability to be open-minded, when it comes to some things… but with others, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>names</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I want you to see we aren’t all born right into them.  I’m not showing you this to scare you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About Dad?” Rali asked, picking up some clues from Dax, as it curled its tail and swam in leisurely circles around her legs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their interaction shifted from the spoken to the subliminal.  By her nature, Jadzia stored infinite timelines of possibilities, each in linear order, which she could demonstrate either forward or backward.  That was all.  For Rali to understand this particular lesson, she shifted gradually further into the past - even though the entire ordeal felt like it lasted only a minute:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian was confiding in Jadzia, The Orb, over a glass of sparkling cider.  He was on Trill for some celebration, it seemed, and Rali could feel the warm, tingling sensation radiating from his stomach to hers.  He was nervous, and trying to hide it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I didn’t think she’d be interested in any of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Julian admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jadzia looked at him, surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.  I think all of us limiting her knowledge of </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of her grandparents was the best thing we ever did for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Jadzia said, but her voice was coy and her lips tugged into the faintest hint of a smile, suggesting Julian had left something unsaid, and she knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose, if she ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>doubts </span>
  </em>
  <span>that,” Julian said, swishing his glass around with a flick of his wrist, “it might make a good </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grounding Vision</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jadzia giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t mind if she sees it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just don’t think it’s that interesting.  I hardly remember it, myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good,” Jadzia assured him, reaching to touch his hand, digging her nails in for just a moment, knowing the sensation was dulled by her liquid form.  “It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--but then again, blocking out trauma is a common, totally natural response--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Julian was talking with Ezri instead.  They were both in their Starfleet uniforms, beside one another on the couch in their shared quarters, and Ezri was patting his shoulder while she spoke to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I wonder if it even happened,” Julian admitted, “and then I get a comm from my mother, asking to meet up at some remote outpost or other, and… I don’t know what to tell her.  I’m meant to tell her ‘no,’ aren’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would if I were you,” Ezri was firm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.  And I suppose that’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Counselor</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking to me…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>partner</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ezri insisted, leaning in to kiss his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali was aware of the strange sensation of existing in multiple spaces at once; time travel in any form was always troubling for Joined Trill, but in this case, she was observing herself as very much Unjoined.  She was aware of herself occupying her mother’s womb, as Julian gingerly touched her tummy, and nodded his agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t call back,” he said.  “It’s best for </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get them back here,” Jadzia was saying - the vision shifted back a few years earlier.  “I’m gonna give them a piece of my mind!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian was sulking in Sisko’s office.  The rest of the committee - Sisko included - had left him alone.  Jadzia came in purely to understand the lack of commotion.  Last she had heard, Julian’s father was under arrest, and had been transported out quietly.  With a trembling voice, Julian told her why, and she did not find a single shred of the story acceptable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>could they</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jadzia growled, deeply unsettled by the vacant look on her friend’s face.  “How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare they</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it would all come out at some point,” Julian mumbled.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>good enough for Jadzia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They had no right to do any of that, Julian.  You were a child, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>child.  Their job was to </span>
  <em>
    <span>love you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the very least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” he sighed.  “I thought maybe my Transition procedures would help bury it… blur the line a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The concept did not translate well to Trill understanding, so Jadzia did not refute it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s totally different.  Unrelated,” she said, instead.  “You were doing what was right for you, which </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t something your parents were </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> interested in doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Jadzia.  Jules wasn’t an </span>
  <em>
    <span>unhappy</span>
  </em>
  <span> little-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Julian gagged, and Jadzia shushed him, showing her love for him with direct force; a certain and welcome change from the opposing approach his parents had taken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” she said.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  If they couldn’t see what a great person you were going to grow up and become, that’s their problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>made </span>
  </em>
  <span>this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I don’t think that’s true, do you?  I don’t think they changed a </span>
  <em>
    <span>single thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>about you, and they should be ashamed for trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian went quiet as he thought it over.  His eyes were red and glassy, his throat was parched, his thoughts were racing over what few memories he held of his childhood.  He felt like these were burning and shriveling up, one by one, and it was impossible for him to judge their value - impossible to reach into the flames and salvage anything for himself to keep.  Maybe it was not even worthwhile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humans are </span>
  <em>
    <span>ridiculous</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jadzia went on.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clearly </span>
  </em>
  <span>this is who you were, all along.  You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to be a doctor, even I knew that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trill had no regard for gender as anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>changeable, determined by the individual alone, and it did not even cross Jadzia’s mind when she gave these reassurances.  All of this was unspoken but clearly understood.  It was exactly what Julian needed.  How could his parents have possibly impacted </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  They couldn’t have, he thought, taking some strength in himself at last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long while, he was able to meet her gaze again.  Staring at Sisko’s desk had only deepened his discomfort, the sense he was a disappointment to all who knew him.  But it was not true; Jadzia was not going to be convinced of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I made,” Julian said, “was my name.  For myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jadzia sat down on the other side of the desk, and offered Julian her hands, steady and flat on the tabletop.  She had never seen his </span>
  <em>
    <span>shake</span>
  </em>
  <span> - not in surgery, not in sport - but they did, now.  She had never seen him vulnerable, like this, and she was grateful for the trust he placed in her, along with his hands in hers.  She squeezed him tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole thing,” Julian mumbled, almost able to laugh despite his exhaustion.  He was soaking up </span>
  <em>
    <span>comfort </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the heavy air, confiding in a friend.  “I changed it </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I never wanted to speak to them again.  I never wanted them to find me.  I probably should’ve changed the first name more, er, dramatically, but… I’d always kind of liked it.  I wanted to feel tied to </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>of my heritage, but while also skipping over my parents, if that makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Human names never make sense to me,” Jadzia admitted, with a friendly giggle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I guess they don’t need to, either,” Julian agreed, forcing himself to smile.  “It was just a feeling.  I knew, once I had my records changed and got into the Academy… I knew I could just have a title, if I wanted.  But it didn’t appeal to me… Cadet, Lieutenant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- I didn’t really care for those the way I cared for…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Julian</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jadzia said, and the name brimmed with affection.  “It’s perfect.  I’d almost believe you if you told me it was written right on you, like my name is on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a passing gesture at his chest, but then changed his mind and touched at his heart, instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that what matters most?” Jadzia nudged him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine that’s what </span>
  <em>
    <span>most </span>
  </em>
  <span>parents teach their children, yes,” Julian replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jadzia reached across the desk to take hold of his shoulder, squeezing and shaking him firmly, back to reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give them any more of your energy,” she said.  “Besides, you’ll be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>better father than he was.  A hundred times over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian’s laugh was dry and disbelieving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it,” Jadzia went on, “just you wait.  You’ll cross paths with the perfect alien, plan your family, and take </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> good care of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vision did not shift backward any further; it froze and then faded, leaving Rali there in the water, face to face with Jadzia.  During the ordeal, Dax had nestled into Jadzia’s pleural cavity, lending conductivity to the memories, shining through her liquid form as it unraveled its tail.  Similarly, Rali was aware of the Miele symbiont inside her, as it helped guide her to empathy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know they were that awful,” Rali said, of Julian’s parents.  “I knew what he did… Trill are doing that constantly, I never think about it.  So they named him what they wanted even though he didn’t want it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” said Jadzia, solemnly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think about anyone having their name </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Mine is outside and I like it that way; it tells me about myself.  But maybe anyone can change theirs, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right.  Rugal and Chiry are doing something really wonderful for their baby, by waiting and learning about her.  Now, I wonder if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> can show them how to listen to her, in some different ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aunt Kira won’t just make up a name for her, it wouldn’t be the right one,” Rali realized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.  And she knows that, but she’s trying to be graceful about it.  Cardassian and Bajoran naming traditions have been in use for </span>
  <em>
    <span>centuries</span>
  </em>
  <span>… we’re just gonna shake things up a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the anxious spell had passed, and Elim was thoroughly exhausted, Julian practically carried him back to the hut.  He did not mind putting his strength to use when it gave relief to others, and he knew Elim was suffering.  Once safely inside, he set to work on their newly established routine, padding the gaps to create a better barrier for the sound, laying Elim down on the bed and offering him a blanket - draping it loosely over his shoulders for warmth instead of confinement.  As he was tending to Elim, softly cupping his cheek and wiping away the clammy sweat that had pooled up in his orbital ridge during his anxiety attack, he heard a chirp from his PADD.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” Julian offered, ignoring the sound even as it shot a little purple spark into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would prefer not to,” Elim replied, nodding toward the sound to redirect Julian’s attention.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>part of you should always be a mystery to me,” Julian mumbled, turning to pick up the device. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think it was much of a mystery,” Elim admitted, willingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking about it</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all.  “Vulnerability is not something I have ever been permitted to experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you enjoy it?” Julian quirked his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mercies, no,” Elim went on.  “Aside from my own unfortunate reaction, however, I have found it to be perfectly safe.  If I had been a younger man on assignment, a display like that would have been the end of me.  But here I am.  Isn’t that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Julian said, taken aback.  “Forgive me for not realizing you were doing some twisted study on yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would think you are guilty of that as well, from time to time.  What does your message say, dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t important,” Julian said quickly, “Trale’s sent us the script to read ourselves, at our leisure.  But I really think you should get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve translated it for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  Now, if you insist on testing the limits of your comfort, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>insist </span>
  </em>
  <span>on taking care of you.  Sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fail to see how this has earned me any resentment from you.  I am already unhappy with my reaction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Elim,” Julian paused and took his hands away from Elim’s face, “I’m not upset with you.  I’m upset with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for letting you come here in the first place.  All I can do to make up for that is look after you, now.  Will you </span>
  <em>
    <span>let me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim was thoughtful, and reached to take the PADD from his partner’s hands, already eagerly seeking distraction between the lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I insist,” Elim said quietly.  “It is strange for me to accept accommodation, but if you are the one to force me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My life’s work,” Julian observed, fond and playful. “Let me know how you like the script...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian began settling in for sleep, himself, raising his own blanket and burrowing beneath it.  He laid on his side, knees drawn up to his chest for added warmth and pressure.  Indeed, the cold air was a constant shock to his throat, but the rest of his body felt positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, buzzing instead of shivering, tingling in a way he found most pleasant.  It was fortunate his augmented body did not require much sleep to function; there were too many things on his mind for him to find peace.  It was most important, he thought, for Elim to get some rest and recover from his ordeal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, after an hour or so of this, he felt a soft tap-tap-tap on his shoulder - unmistakably from Elim’s neatly-manicured claw - and he rolled over, blinking and bleary.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The plot was fairly simple,” Elim appraised, in a hoarse whisper, as he passed the PADD back to Julian, “but I found the two protagonists </span>
  <em>
    <span>charming</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the themes quite remarkable, especially given the amateur translation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Julian said, taking it and scrolling back up to the top to begin reading, himself.  “Sounds like something we’ll have to discuss over lunch, tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’ve already written my review,” Elim said, pulling himself in closer to Julian, resting his chin atop Julian’s shoulder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s an even better idea.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eight more Standard days of their mission were spent with the aid of their PADDs, invariably bringing them to conspiratory laughter and then great affection within the confines of their hut.  The two of them slept well, and ate well and looked after one another, and completed eight shifts of diligent work with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran </span>
  </em>
  <span>people.  They made advancements on the written language front, and after some modification to their own Bajoran-Cardassian coded devices, they could communicate comfortably with their hosts.  Or, at the very least, with Trale acting as an enthusiastic intermediary, reading off of the PADDs and then composing their reply, then rushing away to speak - quietly - to their fellow </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcurans</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Eventually, Elim and Julian were comfortable enough with this process to forego their face-shields and helmets; they left their padded suits on to avoid unnecessary stress on their bodies, but their ears were being carefully accommodated.  It made things much more bearable for Elim, especially, and he took private delight in each time Trale or Julian would turn away from him before speaking, to make sure he was safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shared a meal at the aerospace center commissary, and while they wished to engage in the camaraderie of all the researchers, who customarily took their meals together, Trale cleared the hall to ensure Julian and Elim would not be overwhelmed.  The chef emerged only to serenade their table; they sang at precise pitches to create a special blend of sediments in the air, which they then collected and took back to the preparation area.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim typed on his PADD and nudged it across the table to Julian. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Isn’t that extraordinary?  Think - after intense training, of course - that one’s vocal cords can command the same power as a replicator.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale, who was sitting in a seat arranged slightly behind Elim, tapped at his shoulder with their claw, requesting permission to type a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The base nutrients, are first, reorganized, into appealing form</span>
  </em>
  <span> - they typed - </span>
  <em>
    <span>which I do hope you, are to find, pleasing, palatable, yes, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> - Elim replied, basking in the care Trale showed him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not a spark of jealousy, but a necessary reminder to Elim that he was worthy of basic decency.  Julian watched with pride, and reached across the table to take Elim’s hand in his, while tapping out a reply on his own PADD, settled on his lap with the upper edge resting on the jagged edge of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>A bit like the Klingon restaurant, in its heyday.  Almost operatic. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>They could hear the chef singing, even from the closed-off kitchen, although the sound did not materialize on their side of the partition.  When the chef returned to the table, they carried all three meals at once, gathered securely between their arm and their chest.  According to Julian, the dishes looked like fishbowls, and they held a purplish porridge with heavier cubes settled inside it, formed from sediment.  It was appealing only due to the great array of colors; the contrasting textures were unfamiliar to both Julian and Elim.  Regardless, they took the single utensil the chef provided for the two of them to share, and made every attempt to be polite. While Julian was digging the flat-edged utensil into one of the nutrient blocks, causing it to gradually crumble into more manageable pieces, Elim typed a reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, but here... you must eat your words, my dear.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian touched the very tip of his tongue to the flat utensil, and could not help but recoil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” he said, wiping his mouth, “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>straight potassium</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to catch the sound of his outburst before it hit Elim - who had already found himself shielded behind Trale, who stood up in front of him in anticipation - and then apologized and typed out the rest of his impressions. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>You may like it, though, Elim.  Astringent, salty...  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim reached out for the spoon and took a taste of his own while Julian went on typing, showing his questions to Trale for answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Now, what pitch makes that concentration of potassium?  Do you even call it potassium, I wonder?  Perhaps this is a bit too advanced, for our current translation program…</b>
</p><p>
  <b>A nutritional supplementation</b>
  <span> - Trale replied, borrowing Julian’s PADD this time - </span>
  <b>this one, it is common to us, but only edible if, Prepared quickly after, spoken, </b>
</p><p>
  <b>That’s incredible.  Thank you.  I anticipate us setting up a pharmaceutical exchange between our planets in the future, if you would agree to it.  Cardassians tend to lack it, and don’t get nearly enough naturally-occuring sources to choose from.  Otherwise their blood chemistry tends to be overly alkaline, and we’ve found their longevity improves with added acidity.  Sorry to ramble, carry on.  It’s just that we… we want to keep Mr. Garak around with us as long as he likes.  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim peered at this written exchange and happily continued eating his portion of potassium-fortified porridge.  He thought it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicious</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and smirked at Julian as he offered his own typeset interjection:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My husband always looks out for me, you see.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Trale blinked slowly - an expression of trust and appreciation.  They borrowed Julian’s PADD again, to answer:</span>
</p><p>
  <b>I think, both of you, are fortunate,</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim and Julian certainly thought so, too, and continued writing to one another for the next few days of the assignment.  Whenever they were done working, alone for the evening, they would huddle up together on their bed and compose long, loving appraisals of one another.  The conversation always shifted from their day’s achievements to their mutual appreciation.  And each day, after concluding their projects, they would collect more sound-proofing foam from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana</span>
  </em>
  <span> - along with other bits and pieces they wanted to make themselves feel more at home - before continuing on to the hut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One evening, Julian glanced up from his screen with a smirk.  He had been typing away silently for a long while, and the slightest movement through Elim’s periphery brought them to gaze at each other. Perhaps they did not even need written words, Elim thought for a moment, as he took in the subtle details of Julian’s face, reading tells and codes both deeply-ingrained and clearly obvious to the trained eye.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, he thought, that would leave Julian at a disadvantage.  Julian could discern discomfort like no one else in the universe - he did it </span>
  <em>
    <span>instantly </span>
  </em>
  <span>and tenaciously - but aside from that, he assumed his company was in a pleasant mood until he was expressly told otherwise.  The intermediary gradient was a mystery to him, and Elim considered this while breaking his gaze from Julian and finally giving the PADD a glance.  Elim loved written words, but in that moment, he loved his partner </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>What is it about you</b>
  <span>, Julian had written, </span>
  <b>that brings me clarity?</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim grinned.  It had taken Julian </span>
  <em>
    <span>all that time </span>
  </em>
  <span>to come up with one little phrase?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That is not a common description of me.  But then again, I married an uncommon man.  How are you finding it, here?  Tell me everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>How do you mean? </b>
  <span>Julian faltered, and had to look more closely at Elim’s face to understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim was glad to sacrifice his comfort to speak for Julian’s benefit, even though he kept his voice quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This atmosphere,” Elim said.  “The pressure, the bright array of colors, the science of transforming sound into solid form.  How do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>find it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, they watched the words appear and solidify as Elim described, making a little raspberry-colored cloud, which Elim reached to shove aside.  Otherwise, there was not much room left between them, and Elim prioritized seeing Julian’s face.  For further aid, he held Julian’s hand tight within both of his own, squeezing it affirmatively before dropping it, leaving Julian to occupy himself with Elim’s neck brace.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>sliding his fingers inside and feeling the pressure, as he gave relief to the aching scale-arches underneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remarkable,” Julian breathed.  “I’ll write a full report as soon as we--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to hear it.  Genuinely, my dear, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Already, Julian had slipped one hand free of Elim’s brace, and gone to type some more on his PADD - he could do this deftly without even looking at the screen, of course - but Elim recalled his attention with ease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it,” Julian admitted, careful to keep his passion to a whisper.  “I had, um… I’d written to Rali, I told her she’d hate the sound here, especially, and it made me realize how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> enjoying it.  I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and shook his head, then found the words he wanted:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel as though I’m… constantly being squeezed and </span>
  <em>
    <span>held</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And I feel some kind of intuitive connection to all the blurring of senses, here - </span>
  <em>
    <span>tasting </span>
  </em>
  <span>words?  Seeing my husband sigh into the cold air, but it’s more than just the fog of his breath?  The colors are </span>
  <em>
    <span>astonishing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I feel as though I understand everything around me in real time… it’s always sort of… I don’t know, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>things and perceive them much too quickly, and sometimes my perception ends up being incorrect, but I can’t slow my mind down to reconsider it.  I’m generally </span>
  <em>
    <span>correct</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but… I’ve enjoyed being here.  I feel like I’m experiencing everything exactly as it happens.  As if I’m… </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, here.  But I know you don’t enjoy it-- it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>difficult </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you, and I understand that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim smiled and touched his own neck brace, tracing the radiating outline of Julian’s hand, hard at work underneath.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never dream of allowing my discomfort to limit your enjoyment of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dear,” Elim admitted.  “Normalcy is not so simple a thing to find.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel we were brought here by Fate, the Prophets, the Wormhole, whatever you want to call it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After watching you acclimate, I believe that also.  And I am finding ways to appreciate it,” Elim said, releasing his grip and moving to touch the newest words, instead.  “It is our evolution; it is inevitable.  You can paint my body now with </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span>, rather than cosmetics, or Rali’s watercolors.  We can declare our feelings for one another and store them in a physical space, we can protect them and observe them and take strength in them for the rest of our lifetimes.  I cannot ignore that opportunity, because I know I am safe to explore it with you at my side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian caught his breath up in a sniffle, and reached to wipe his eyes before any trace of a tear could form. Indeed, some of the pinkish confessions Elim had made earlier stained the back of his hand, and transferred onto his cheek like the outline of a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can think of no more fitting way,” Elim said softly, “for us to make love to one another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elim…” the pink on Julian’s cheek was suddenly highlighted by his blushing, “at our ages, I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>With words</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elim delicately corrected, placing his hand against Julian’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following morning, they both took great care in helping the other to dress for the day.  It had been far too cold, the previous night, for Elim to remove his thermal layer completely, but he had unfastened many of the clasps that ran down the center, allowing Julian’s words of adoration to break against his chest, and the soft, tugging flesh of his belly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian had rarely enjoyed their intimacy so thoroughly, while Elim admitted to feeling the same about the aftermath.  This time, he thought the marks left behind were masterpieces, and he did his best not to smudge them during the process of putting on his thermal smock, then the padded suit over it.  In the end, some of the darker colors soaked up through the white thermal, but he found he liked having a little reminder, easily visible through the transparent outer layer.  Julian, of course, enjoyed the full presence of the sound, feeling pressure as Elim touched with his hands </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>with his words.  It was, just as he said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>remarkable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were finished dressing, Julian dutifully returned to his PADD.  Conversation was something to be mutually entered into, here, and enjoyed only with great caution.  Within their protective suits, the clouds of sound were only a nuisance, but at least the two of them were safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>You</b>
  <b> are remarkable.</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could say the same about you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Elim replied on his own device, showing it to Julian for approval, giving him only a fraction of a second to read it.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to make a stop by the ship before Trale meets us for breakfast.  I need to replicate a few little things.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Throughout those eight days, the rest of the festival-goers dispersed from their hostels and went to their homes.  The Bajoran visitors had to book passage to their homeworld, leaving the Trill visitors to honor the festival’s original inspiration.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Berajin</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as it was observed on Bajor, was a time to celebrate the harvest and leave offerings to nourish the souls of the dead, wandering aimlessly throughout the Occupation, helping them find their way home.  The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boryhas </span>
  </em>
  <span>would follow the paths they used most often during their waking life, journeying from their burial site to their ancestral homes, where signs of love and prosperity waited for them, honoring them, showing what their family had achieved.  Of course, the Occupation had dulled the ancient stone paths, displaced many of the cemeteries, and raided the homesteads.  When Kira gave her sermon, however, she left this part unsaid.  The vital theme, for her listeners, was the fact they could create a home wherever they needed to, and they could come together to honor past memories, collaboratively.  Trill and Bajoran attendees alike had taken this to heart, evident in the solemn nods she got all throughout her talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, once the Trill had paid honor to their </span>
  <em>
    <span>taya </span>
  </em>
  <span>ancestors through their zhian’taras, taking in volunteers to play roles their close friends or trusted family could not account for, they walked and took skimmer shuttles to their homes, carrying their symbiont’s uncovered souls with them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she had been grounded by her Vision with Jadzia, Rali found she no longer liked the empty, quiet space.  She rarely enjoyed solitude - she did enjoy </span>
  <em>
    <span>silence</span>
  </em>
  <span> - but it allowed Jadzia’s words to continue weighing on her.  She had to call for Kira, who was taking a late breakfast with Lenara and Ezri.  The three of them returned to the cave together, then called for Ro, Kelas, and the young couple and their child. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With this little gathering, Rali felt more comfortable with the odds of a favorable outcome for her apology.  She knelt to the little girl’s level, as she waddled along holding her father’s fingertips - and Rali was reminded of the love she felt for her parents.  All of them, in all their forms.  Even if her name was chosen within an hour of her birth, and this child had gone years without anything to answer to.  The presiding love could be the same, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Rali said, offering out her hand, flat.  “It is nice to meet you.  I’m going to help you find what we should call you, instead of baby.  You won’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The child patted Rali’s hand, unsure of what else to do with it.  Rugal leaned down to scoop her up, and Rali rushed to stand up with them, dusting some of the fine, powdery sand off of her robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to do the clay part first,” Rali explained, working through a list she kept in her head.  “The Vedek… helped me with this.  And my Mom and my mom did, too… and Jadzia…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The formalities gradually slipped aside as she tried to make amends, and she turned to thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>Auntie Nerys</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the little lump of Bajoran pottery-clay she had brought along, on Rali’s request.  Her mothers also brought Rali’s childhood stash of art supplies - parchment and ink-based markers, small pots of watery paint and vials of glitter and slime.  Jadzia, in her own way, brought reassurance, and she placed one of her hands gently over Rali’s shoulder, even though Rali could only feel it as a slightly colder rush of air.  She </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>the cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We want to see her express herself,” Kira explained, as Rali took the clay and held it tight in her hands, breathing on it to warm it for the baby’s benefit.  “I wouldn’t know where to </span>
  <em>
    <span>start </span>
  </em>
  <span>with picking a name for her--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--so she has to start it herself,” Rali interrupted.  “Sorry, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vedek</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Kira said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s wonderful,” Chiry appraised, watching Kira with great respect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to play along,” Kira said gently, nodding at Rali to split the clay into segments.  “Have you heard the saying, Chiry - it takes a village?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have more,” Rali mumbled, stooping to the symbiosis pool and scraping away some silt from under the water, blending it in with the clay to increase its mass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Chiry nodded, enraptured.  Rugal stepped forward with the baby in his arms, guiding her to take some of the clay from Rali. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And look, she’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>natural</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kira remarked, as the baby squished some of the cool clay and let it slide out between her fingers.  “Better than me, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind her, Jadzia giggled.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’ll give it another try, for a good cause,” Kira replied to Jadzia’s insinuation of the memory - a young, unstable Kira trying to force herself into an ancient caste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rali kept a little bit of the clay for herself, and set to rolling it into a lumpy approximation of a symbiont.  While the rest of the adults took turns passing the clay around, pressing it into various shapes, watching and encouraging the baby, Rali wondered what name her invented symbiont might have, if she had to be the one to scrape the spots into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard work, picking a name out,” she said.  “It doesn’t have to be good the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She surrendered her bit of clay, finding Ezri and combining their pieces, and went to sit down on the pool ledge to simply watch the scene unfold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bit by bit - link by individual link of fine, platinum chain - Elim replicated the items he wished for.  Each day after their work assignment concluded, he and Julian would take a detour to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Elim would make his curious inspection of the sparse bedroom, taking careful steps around their bed’s former place in order to reach the replicator.  He did not demand more material than the replicator could provide on its own reserve power; he did not want to necessitate use of the ship’s main engines.  These were </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the confines of the ship, with its optimized humanoid atmosphere, sound was far more chaotic than outside on the surface, where the entire planet had adjusted.  In addition, all of Julian’s assistive devices had since been donated and cleared out of the hull, leaving no protective padding left to mask the noise of Elim’s work.  Even sliding his fingernail along the console screen made a horrible </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he endured it willingly, in the name of the plan he was devising.  He had suffered for much of his life under the constriction of his State; it was far better to genuinely adore his husband, and push his limits of comfort with gratitude to Julian in mind.  That, and he was a notably good giver of gifts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, link by link, he wove a necklace chain.  From the center, he hung what appeared to be a glass enclosure, fortified by shimmering metallic wire, wrapped in a spiral all around it.  The wire was thin enough to leave glimpses of the inner hollow visible, and its shine served to catch the eye.  But the little hexagonal casing was not glass; it was the same material their soundproof suits were made of.  Elim was fairly sure that if he simply turned the material over and left a small gap to close off later, it could keep sound </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span>, instead of out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the final night of their stay, both necklaces were complete.  Julian had watched him replicate the ingredients and gently bend the links to sit within one another at night, while they remained awake late into the night writing each other notes.  But he could only guess at their finished value until then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his helmet still on, Julian was recording his personal log, excitedly going on and on about everything they had learned there, all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>they had done.  They had tested the hearing of nearly the entire native population, to ensure it was not unduly affected by the sound; deafness was not necessarily something to be avoided, but he wanted to ensure they were not being harmed by their surroundings.  And, if their hearing did degrade - which it turned out to do, at the same rate it did in humans of centuries past - he wanted to provide them with alternative communication methods.  Together, he and Elim shared more advanced writing techniques as well as signed language, specially adapted to the shapes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zcuran</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeler-appendages.  At the end, there was no contract, no expectation of allyship.  It was pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span> - even if Julian romanticized it into </span>
  <em>
    <span>charity </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and it made Elim feel good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We only helped speed the improvement of systems they already had in place,” Julian insisted, ducking his head so his lips nearly brushed the top of his comm badge as it recorded.  “They aren’t spacefaring, yet, and we haven’t changed that.  They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>written symbols and nonverbal language systems in place, but we’ve helped them advance more quickly than they would have, unaided.  Most importantly, we’ve made sure no one is suffering in a world like this, without knowing there are alternatives all over the galaxy they could learn from or flee to, if they were in need.  We’ve been met by only the most kind and hospitable individuals - they all truly seem connected to one another, apparent in the… hmm, I suppose the word I want is </span>
  <em>
    <span>transparency</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even though that isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>correct… the transparency of their language.  Their tone conveys itself in color, and the people here are closely bonded.  We’ve had a wonderful time adjusting to our little apartment - to be honest, I’m sad to see it go…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the duration of the walk, Elim had been clinging tightly to Julian’s arm, sharing his affection and a pledge of loyalty, even though there were no other Cardassians around to witness - nor challenge - it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t going anywhere,” Elim gently replied, “who knows - it may host another couple after us - young and deeply in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>considering </span>
  </em>
  <span>listing this as a tourist destination,” Julian teased.  “This is for our eyes only.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reached the end of the little path they had become accustomed to taking, they paused, considering the hut on one side, and the winding road back to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the other.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to leave right away?” Julian asked, studying Elim’s face through the carbon fiber shield.  “I can transport the bed back, you can sleep and I can put in the coordinates for home while I reset the settings to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to rest, too,” Elim insisted, patting Julian’s arm.  “But yes, I would prefer to resume </span>
  <em>
    <span>nesting </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the ship, if time permits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Julian said, before privately addressing his communicator and requesting transport for their bed back to the ship.  Well, as privately as one could when the words painted themselves in the air inside his shield, this time in green.  It made him feel so full of energy… “Actually, as far as rest, I-- I would rather get you out of this atmosphere as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to compromise on this particular matter, trust me,” Elim said, eyes glinting.  “Clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>would prefer to experience more of the wonders this world has to offer us, and I have come up with a way for both of us to enjoy this, one final time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From clutching Julian’s arm, Elim’s hand trailed down to his wrist, shifting to gently lead Julian along the path.  By the time they arrived at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana </span>
  </em>
  <span>and gave the command to unseal the door, the bed had already finished transporting back to its original spot in their room.  Julian preceded Elim up the ramp, taking his hand as if they were making a grand entrance into a ballroom full of dignitaries, rather than their familiar and empty little shuttle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim went to sit on their bed right away, eager to shed his suit.  Free from its oppression, Elim returned to the dignified </span>
  <em>
    <span>vision </span>
  </em>
  <span>Julian felt so attracted to, before their mission even began.  He was in his white linen and mother-of-pearl suit, and he peeled away the matching pale pink gloves only because it was warmer on the shuttle. Julian had already given the command to turn the climate controls on to Elim’s preference, and he delighted in coming over to replace Elim’s flannel scarf with the increased support of his neck brace.  But, as he gingerly untied the scarf and began to pull it back, his eyes were drawn to something sparkling, dipping beneath Elim’s collarbone to touch the spoon-shaped ridge underneath.  There were two pendants - Julian had seen them in progress, but not together, complete, and there as a surprise for him to unwrap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were an accomplished jeweler,” Julian observed, at a whisper. “One of your aliases?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teasingly, Elim tutted his tongue, and reached behind his neck to unfasten one of the pendants, offering it to Julian.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will go through all of them,” Elim replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian’s face took on a blushing shade of naivete Elim had not enjoyed in many years.  He reveled in it, even more so when Julian spoke:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of my past identities,” Elim said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it… isn’t it a bit loud, here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dear,” he said, pressing one hand to the small of Julian’s back, “my hearing has </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>been as good as yours.  It has degraded further, over the last few years especially.  No, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sound </span>
  </em>
  <span>itself has not made me uncomfortable - it has been that… confining sensation from all of the pressure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, the part </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>like,” Julian teasingly nudged his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” Elim pointedly ignored this, and kept his hand firmly in place, “I find the sensation even more interesting within the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holana</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Wouldn’t you agree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would.  Let me just… get us more comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian stepped free of his suit, too, leaving Elim utterly endeared at the choice of clothing he had put on beneath it.  Of course, the suit was mostly transparent, but the constant interruptions of sound and motion made it difficult for Elim to see exactly what Julian was wearing, underneath - especially since he had woken up and gotten himself dressed long before Elim had, that morning.  Despite the protective cover, he had dressed appropriately for a day of hearing screenings - wearing his lilac-and-copper scrubs and a rumpled up lab coat to match.  The ensemble contained the typical Bajoran mixture of quilted and crocheted textures, practical for medical work in such cold weather.  Elim loved it, and used both hands to smooth out the wrinkles in the base of Julian’s coat, immersing himself in the identity of the tailor again.  This made him recall his original purpose; the tailor would have to wait his turn in a long line of false identities… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a deliberate, dance-like motion, Elim twisted them around, exchanging their positions.  He stood, and left Julian sitting primly on the side of the bed to watch the scene unfold.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am going to provide my confession,” Elim explained, reaching to touch the pendant, still sitting flat in Julian’s palm.  Carefully maneuvering one fingernail, he slid the little window open, allowing the piece to be filled and later sealed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian nodded as he worked his way through his husband’s associative logic.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… Elim,” he said, softly, “you don’t owe any confessions to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I love you, regardless of your past.  But I, er… I’ll say that into mine, then, shall I?  I understand; it’s nice to </span>
  <em>
    <span>say </span>
  </em>
  <span>these things, and have proof of them, hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Precisely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, when you put it </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>way…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In friendly invitation, Julian smoothed his hand in circles over the thick, coppery blanket, marking a place for Elim, drawing the smallest possible interpretation of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nest</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Elim accepted eagerly, sitting down and drawing his knees up beside him on the mattress; Julian immediately put a hand on Elim’s knee, and used his other hand to open the second pendant.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we?” he proposed, flashing his most charming smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elim hardly resisted a shiver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian was always attuned to Elim’s physical needs, so he drew the blanket up and wrapped it around Elim’s shoulders, first.  Hesitantly, his mouth hung open, as he brought the pendant to touch his lips.  While he christened it with a kiss, Elim leaned in until their foreheads touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Julian whispered, watching the cherry-colored words curl up like smoke inside the glass prism, “is deserving of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>utmost </span>
  </em>
  <span>respect, love, and devotion.  I strive every new day to give him more than the last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not made any confession.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sentiment will be the same, regardless” Julian insisted, breaking away from the pendant to kiss Elim’s lips.  “Will it change </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>story, any?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I am planning to tell the truth.” Elim continued with no further excuses, “When I was a much younger man, stationed on Romulus, I admit I had a hand in the assassination of a certain--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, hang on,” Julian said, burrowing so his head and shoulders were beneath the blanket, as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dampening effect of the blanket did not purely muffle the sound; it trapped it.  Julian felt Elim’s words tumbling over his shoulders, warming the back of his neck, sending sparks down his spine.  When he added his voice to the echoing chorus, he could not distinguish one tone from the other.  The sounds blurred and intermingled, but he was bold enough to speak his affirmations to Elim even without the proof they came out right.  Oh, if he had been a younger man, he would have succumbed to his great fear of being misunderstood, of failing to grasp language, of being ridiculed by his listener.  However… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no place for humiliation here - not in the warm little nest they had made, not in the vastness of their decades of association.  All that mattered in that moment was the soft curl of a smile forming on Elim’s face, as he met Julian’s eyes and went on with his confession.  Julian, unable to otherwise contain his adoration, kissed Elim at fair intervals, alternating between his cheek, his lips, his forehead, his chin, the smooth cool fabric covering his neck.  He held Elim’s hands flat in his own, with both pendants resting on top, collecting wayward strands of sound.  Some of the colors brimmed and began to overflow like liquid, but Elim caught them and gently guided them back inside, patting and packing until the prism was nearly full.  Elim left a small segment of open air inside his locket, and found - once he sealed it - he could turn it over and over and watch the swirls of color interact - some binding, some blending, some resisting like water and oil.  He could not have dreamed of a more perfect way for them to memorialize their dedication to one another; despite their differences, they found great strength in </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and their togetherness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim’s lashes were speckled with tears when he glanced up from his work on sealing the pendants.  Julian soothed these away with more kisses - quick, soft little presses of his lips to each eyelid - but the emotional weight of the moment only caused Elim to lose his composure and cry again.  He shed the blanket from his shoulders, breaking the barrier and letting the trapped words out to explore the rest of the ship, clanging and echoing against the metal walls.  He shivered, and Julian held him tight, leading Elim to whisper against his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the interest of </span>
  <em>
    <span>transparency</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elim said, eyeing the pair of colorful pendants, “I must admit I could not understand you clearly, while we spoke together.  But it felt… correct, beautiful, evocative…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” Julian eagerly agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only hope that I…” Elim cleared his throat, and Julian hoped he was not on the brink of embarrassment, “...did not confess in vain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian was always one to weigh his options within a shattered fraction of a second.  He would not leave Elim feeling empty and confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard you perfectly, dear,” Julian said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you,” Elim replied, but as both of them looked at their necklaces, he felt reassured.  “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian happily accepted the task of fastening their pendants, carefully arranging Elim’s over the center seam of his neck brace.  With this done, he left Elim tucked into bed, and went to set the coordinates for home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to Elim’s sleep cycle - which was admittedly biased, as he had fallen asleep lovingly held in his husband’s arms - it was much too early in the morning when they landed on Trill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, on Trill, it was midday.  The primary sun was directly overhead as Elim - groggy but forcibly enlivened by Julian’s enthusiasm and the soft interlinking of their hands - walked the short distance from the tourists’ landing pad to the mouth of the Cave.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elim felt himself relaxing more with each passing moment, as they descended the steps to find a calm gathering of friends, with the only light refracting from Jadzia’s image.  It was nice and dark and quiet, and it did not feel so cold when Julian put one arm around his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d appreciate a vacation from your vacation,” Julian mumbled against Elim’s ear; Elim heard and understood perfectly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or perhaps a more diplomatic finale to my questionable diplomatic mission.  Goodness, I didn’t realize Kelas was still here,” Elim observed, as they approached the little cluster of people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this moment, Kelas paused and waved at them - another from the arsenal of human gestures they delighted in learning from Julian over the years.  Over their moving shoulder, Elim and Julian could catch sight of the other members of the congregation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m relieved to see we didn’t miss the whole party!” Julian beamed, releasing Elim only to offer Rali a hug the moment he could reach her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the occasion?” Elim asked, as he watched them with admiration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A naming ceremony,” said Kira. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she came forward, Elim noticed the hybrid child in her arms.  Carefully, she passed the baby to both parents, who were standing closely together and combining their strength and affection, holding her </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Mr. Pa’Dar,” Elim recognized Rugal from their joint efforts in restructuring the judicial system.  “And who is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  I didn’t think this hatchling of yours was a day over three years old...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She isn’t,” Rugal replied, somewhat perplexed.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Her name is Siset</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Rali interjected, quietly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Rali,” Elim said.  Then he tutted his tongue and went on,  “I thought you were a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensible </span>
  </em>
  <span>young man, Mr. Pa’Dar.  Having waited to reach a respectable age before pursuing a partner… Cardassians aren’t given their names until at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>three years old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because engraving so many headstones became a burden,” Kelas muttered, with distaste for the history but not for Elim, “and the missing persons registry became sort of a blur, thereafter, and the orphanages took up their own naming conventions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was adopted by Bajorans,” Rugal added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you were…” Elim surrendered the point.  “My apologies; hello, Siset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Siset only babbled, in reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our </span>
  <em>
    <span>star</span>
  </em>
  <span> helped uncover her name,” Kelas added, to further Elim’s apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Taya…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Rali protested, embarrassed.  “She did it herself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means ‘inventor,’” Kira supplied, as she stepped into the foreground, gently touching Rali’s shoulder and then greeting Elim and Julian, her officers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We spent the week practicing different ways to express ourselves,” Ezri explained.  “How was your trip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both answered at once:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Incredible,” Julian said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Something</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Elim said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I listened to your reports,” Kira replied.  “And Rali shared some of the letters you sent her.  It sounded so… for lack of a better word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>alien</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it?” Julian grinned, “I felt right at </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelas stepped into the center of the dimly-lit space, patting at the same creases Elim had noticed earlier on Julian’s lab coat, finding little strips of various, bright colors tucked in between the wrinkles as they smoothed over the fabric.  Then, they reached for the hem of Elim’s tunic, tugging at it sharply and bringing Elim into the pale, bluish light, revealing dapples of pink, green, purple... larger smudges of red and orange...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you spent the weekend painting, as well,” Kelas remarked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In our own way,” Elim replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, now,” Kelas said, firmly planting a fingernail in the underside of Elim’s chin, bending the ridge which laid there.  “I thought you were past arguing for the sake of adrenaline.  That’s all you’ve done since you landed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Caught out, Elim’s expression turned coy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is the only reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>argue,” he said. “Besides, this little one has finer braces than </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And she is meeting all of her developmental milestones,” Kelas noted, speaking primarily to Julian. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So’s this one,” Julian made a teasing gesture at Elim. “He’s up to date on his potassium supplement and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>had a hearing test.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelas drew their hand away and chuckled, and took Elim into an embrace instead, holding him loosely around the waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really was remarkable,” Julian went on, despite his audience having different investments in the story - in the hybrid-family’s case, they had none at all, but they had respect for Kira.  “You could just… speak anything into existence.  Feelings, memories, base </span>
  <em>
    <span>nutrients</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Confessions,” said Elim, tapping at his pendant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Julian sighed softly, leaning in against the arch of Elim’s shoulder.  “Of neverending love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same thing, over and over again.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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